I had a rough night. It seems there are only a few positions that are pain-free. All I did on Thursday I think was lift a speaker box up 8 feet and put it on a shelf. The chiropractor might call it an injury, but our insurance stopped covering chiropractic so yee haa, if it would just hurry up and kill me, but it won’t. I guess I pulled a muscle or something.
My sisteh called Friday night too, out of the blue, bubbling over with news and seeking forgiveness for being such a brat back in 2007. Forgiveness is easy as long as I don’t have to do anything. Particularly this morning, but in general, at all.
This chiropractor I know, she’s kinda young, kinda attractive, kinda married, and has two beautiful little girls at home. She has roots in the north valley around Chico. She’s one of these new Christian types. They leave the radio on the Christian rock station at a low level there in the office. Her business card has a picture of an open hand with light coming out of the middle of it, as if it were salvation coming out of the nail hole in Jesus’s hand. It works for her, though, because what she does, she does with her hands. Being a chiropractor, I mean. You see why that’s a good picture to have on her business card. It’s the healing with the hands.
Part of her therapeutic process involves a lot of conversation. She’s a talker. She likes to figure out what’s going on with you while she’s trying to figure out what’s going on with you. So the last time I was in there, she asked me, "How’s wurk?"
So I told her about this place where they have been sending me lately. Of course I can’t describe it here. But she says, "That’s perfect for you!"
I said, "OK, why is that perfect for me?"
So she asks, "Well, is there one of the women there that you kinda like? More than the others?" So I said, "Well, yeah," because you know, there’s usually going to be someone who stands out in a group like that.
So she said, "Here’s what you do. The next time you’re there, ask her if she knows of a nice place to have dinner. Then, when she tells you, ask her if she would show you the nice place to have dinner, being as how you’re from out of town."
I thought about it, and I said, "That’s pretty sly, Nicki, but I don’t know if it’s going to work."
She said, "Of course it will work! It might even lead to a long-term thing." And I’m like, "I don’t see how that’s possible," because I know what I know, and Nicki only knows what she knows. So she says, "Just do it."
So basically I did it, on medical advice, from a chiropractor, and I still don’t know if it worked or not. It seems there’s more to it than just giving someone an idea. They have to agree, unquestionably, you have to follow through, there has to be more communication than that. So I still don’t know if it worked, and I’m told they aren’t going to send me there any more. Not just me, but nobody.
Darn. Somebody called off the rest of the project. I couldn’t figure out why we were doing it anyway. But it could be that the project was called off because one of the hi-tech professionals was flirting with one of the women.
I should remember that. It is possible that nothing shuts down a project faster than the fear of a sexual harassment complaint. James Bond would never have had all those great adventures. He’d be stuck in the office all the time, making paper airplanes and shooting rubber bands with Moneypenny.
I’m not sure how I’m going to explain this to Nicki. I know she’s going to ask, and I can’t tell her if it worked or not, because it didn’t happen. But if it killed the project I should be thankful.
That’s it. I’ll tell her I did what she said, and it killed the project, and thank her profusely for the good idea. Eh? So everybody’s happy. You see how great it is, being a registered ibbiott?