1. It’s raining down sheets of what looks like solid grey, and summer-thundering. I’m tempted, as most of us are, to think that this is because I put my bed laundry outside to dry just a short time ago. My laundry made it weather!
2. I accidentally find myself listening to elevator music. I’ve been requesting any music CD with the word “stress” or “relax” in the title from my Tsutaya Discas service. This has resulted in some of the worst crap ever to be composed on a computer arriving in my mailbox. And lots of bird sounds and waves.
For dinner I am making boxed Japan-style curry, his-and-hers. Mine is vegetarian, of course, and his is spicy. I still hate cooking.
Today, thanks to the generosity of J, I got to go to the Lush spa. They used to be only in Tokyo and London, but I hear they’ve gotten around a bit lately. I got the Good Hour (I’ll link to the English page) massage. The site brags about it being “an experience like no other”, and though a Lush fan, I’ve had me some massages and I was simultaneously thrilled to be going and expecting it to be fairly predictable.
But shazam, it wasn’t. The whole theme of my massage “experience” was nautical, so the massage itself was supposed to resemble waves. It actually did. The massage was a lot better than any I’ve had before, and not just because I was being massaged with Lush bars… I did feel as though maybe, perhaps I should have mentioned that my shoulder area where most recently tattooed had scabbed over (for the first time!), and it was unsightly enough that I’d been too self-conscious to wear yoga clothes on the way to yoga yesterday.
I mean, good lord do I feel like enough of an eye sore half the time in Tokyo anyway without waving my tattoos in people’s faces. (If you’ve been to Tokyo but just done the tourist circuit where other foreigners are-a-plenty, you may not “get” this. I totally AM saying this to be a snot about being more familiar with the city than tourists, but also because I can’t be an elitist about most places in the world, or around most people I know here in Tokyoland.)
Point is, one should warn another person who is about to rub down their body about scabby areas, right? There was even a handy little person diagram on which I could have written it beforehand, but I’m in such a deep stage of “don’t give a fuck” that I just sat and sipped my lemon-mint water and smiled.
The blue-lit candle filled room with its basin of ocean scented misty dry ice was its own phenomenon. But the music… weeeeellll old sea shanties? I nearly giggled a few times, and kept oscillating between “this is cool, I’d play this in my house while sitting with a friend and drinking mojitos” and “yo ho ho this is not relaxation music”.
After the massage I was left in the room with a glorious steamed towel, body dusting powder, and some cream-in-a-pot that (oh bastard, the ice in the cup of iced tea I’m drinking just surged forward in a daring attempt to conquer my face, and brought half the cup of tea with them and down my shirt).
So, um, after ^^^ that part, I was taken to an area with lovely vanities and the whole Lush skincare and makeup line to play with freely. Which, ladies, I did. I was wearing at least four scents, and five facial products by the time I wandered into the main room for my “English tea” and shortbread.
Booyeah. I wanted to move into that spa.
I think I might be ruined for other spa experiences now. A lovely, lovely plight to have.
So, if you couldn’t tell, this did cheer me up a bit. Unfortunately for my sense of myself as an enlightened person, spending money usually does.
I was feeling so much like making out with the earth afterwards that I brought T lunch at work, and generally made a nuisance of myself in his store for a while before heading home for a glorious nap.
Had to wake up to meet a girl who was taking everything from my freebies list on craiglist… ranging from items like “giant overnight maxi pads” (normally I wear cloth ones, but.. eh, you don’t need to know)… to “the iron supplements I bought that one week I thought I was anemic but turned out to be just super stressed as usual”.
Seriously, with only 31 days remaining (so, a month) I am trying to get the stuff T doesn’t need out of his apartment and money into my pocket. But half the people on craigslist are flakes, the other cheats, and the third half are my people and should buy my cheap and cute furniture.