Deadpan.

Recently I've been going to see a massage therapist. Turns out I have these really cool muscle spasms that can cause so much pain I throw-up. For some people the massage-therapist might be a no-brainer. They'd even jump at the excuse to throw themselves down on the massage table. Not me. It's either this or muscle relaxers. I am less excited about more medication than I am about a stranger touching me. So, massage it is.
It's not my first rodeo with massage therapy. But I still find it ironic how my discomfort with all the physical contact makes me more tense. I'll be laying there and realize that I've had a death grip on the table for the past 10 minutes.
It's no surprise that physical touch ranks dead last for me on love languages. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, The 5 Love Languages are a fascinating way to look at the different ways that we give and receive love. And in the words of today's youth, "it's legit." I'd recommend the book, but check out the website for a quick idea. You can even take the quiz and find out what yours are.
The other day I'm lying there trying to relax (not very well) and I can't help but wonder, What in the world is it with these places and pan flute music? Why is that the universal sound of relaxation? And how often do you think pan flute players bore themselves to sleep? Or worse? Death by pan flute. What a way to go. Not exactly down in flames, but certainly novel.