Massage time

On Monday of this week, massage parlors and nail salons were finally able to open. All must comply with new regulations, including both the workers and the guests wearing masks at all times, and separators have been installed between payment counters, between massage chairs, pedicure stations, etc. A lot of thought and effort was put into this, not to mention money, and the time has finally come.

As soon as Chris found out that the massage parlors would be reopening, he immediately booked appointments for us. We got rained out on Friday when we originally planned to go, so instead, we went down to Manhattan Chinatown today. While it was strange pretty much being naked except for my underwear and a mask while getting a massage, it actually did feel quite good. My hands and wrists have still been tight and not feeling “normal,” so I asked the masseuse if she could spend some extra time on those areas. When she found out I could speak some Chinese, she asked me what I did for a living. When I told her I work in technology and spend all my working days at a computer, she sighed and said, “You use your hands for work all day, too, just like me. We are the same. Working and working. Work is hard, isn’t it?” I insisted that it wasn’t the same at all, but she persisted. At the end of the day, it is the same. We use our hands to work, and we feel pain.

She’s right. That’s all we do. We work with our hands to earn our paychecks, and then we are left in pain. It doesn’t matter what we are doing or how much we are paid. If we had to distill it down simply, that is definitely a fact. And that is a really sad thought.

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