Often I get ideas from my constituents on things I can do to relax. “Resign” is a common one, as is “Turn yourself in!” I appreciate these suggestions, but recently I’ve found myself leaning more towards “Rolfing.” Rolfing is apparently an extremely painful form of massage, invented by a woman named Ida Rolf, whose very name screams out “DISCIPLINE.” Ida Rolf sounds like the name of a woman you would meet on a blind date, in a dungeon. (Been there, done that…yada yada yada.)

The Rolfing suggestion comes from one of my favorite constituents, who I will call Georgette (because, well, that’s her name). I’ve known and adored Georgette for about 5 years. She has a heart of gold (that is what they make pacemakers out of, isn’t it?). Although she does tend to get involved in anything she does with great enthusiasm. First it was Yoga. Georgette started with the “Down Dog” and Pigeon poses, but soon was effortlessly folding herself into the very difficult “Nasty Drunken Doorman” and “Horned-up Terrier” poses.

Soon she dove into “Reiki,” a form a massage that involves the masseuse not actually touching you. You lie on the table and your Reiki healer moves their hands “near” your body. Georgette abandoned that when she discovered that her Reiki hadn’t even shown up for the last 5 sessions.

Then it was aromatherapy. The smell of rose petals eased muscle aches, and jasmine relieved congestion. I became skeptical when Georgette’s “Nose Master” told her that the scent of “long-dead oppossum” prevented goiters, and sniffing Nick Nolte made your stocks go up. I never bought into aromatherapy generally, but it was proven to me that sniffing week-old clams cures any craving for…well…clams.

More recently, Georgette became obsessed with Chinese Astrology, Tibetan Chanting, the hideously haunting warblings of Celine Dion, and the healing power of Bar Mitzvahs. All of this has led to Rolfing, which is supposed to bring relief through unbearable pain. So early next week I’m going to see a man who will stand on my throat until I feel better. But at least it’s only costing me $250.

I simply have to steer Georgette toward fads that have more obvious benefits to me. That’s why I’ve started evangelizing the miraculous, supernatural calming powers of washing my car.

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