Early morning, cup of excellent Coffee Cat coffee, and I’m in the waiting room at the massage/chiropractor/ acupuncturist. Mr.Q is in for his massage appointment, but I have another 30 minutes, at least, before my chiropractor adjusts my back into some semblance of alignment.
I could go to the drug store or the mall and spend a little money instead of sitting in the waiting room, but I’ve convinced myself that this is far more productive and certainly far less expensive.
I’m starting to wonder if my lower back and hips are being affected by driving, as it is my right, gas pedal side that seems a little more aggravated.
The the real test of chiropractic effectiveness will be if it manages to improve, not my driving, but everyone else’s driving. The last few days have been a rash of asinine drivers – slow Sunday types, wandering signal-less types, the desperate to move one car-length ahead, the speedy right-laners and the last minute left turners [usually from the far right lane].
Where did all these people come from and why are they suddenly on my route?
My mother is infinitely more worried about me driving in “the big city” now that I’m pregnant – what with the self-fulfilling vapidness of the purported mom-dumb/placenta-head syndrome. As always [of course!], I tell her it’s not me, it’s everyone else. Or, at least, it’s my sacral discomfort induced perception of everyone else.
And that’s more than enough to justify a chiropractic visit and muttering obscenities from the middle lane.