Bad foot massage is like bad sex

I had the worst pedicure experience of my life today. The way my pedicurist rapid-fire poked poked poked at my bottom of my feet just gave me the willies.

To me, a bad foot massage is like bad sex in that it’s WAY worse than no foot massage / sex at all. It’s just so horrible that you need it to stop. As immediately as politely feasible.

Like anything in life, a sure and confident grip is half the battle. An empathetic soul is the other. And it helps to have nice hands. So I was frustrated to pay good money for an hour long grope by a limp fish who viewed me as a pile of dough.

A great massage is such an important part of the experience, don’t you think?

Perhaps I’m a little on edge now because I’m anxiously waiting for my real estate broker, Jill, to call me with good news on my first Julep location. Ideally, I would have liked to have had a signed lease in my hand before I started working with an architect, but I couldn’t work that sequentially AND be open by summer 2007.

The developer and his broker were going to meet yesterday to review my Letter of Intent (LOI). I think we’ve worked through all the major issues, and he seemed like a straight-shooter who got what Julep is all about, so I have my fingers crossed.

I tend to trust in people more than I do in written contracts. The latter is “necessary, but not sufficient,” as they say in law school (but I think that was said about people, actually).

Jane

PS Jill just called – I have a signed Letter of Intent! Hooray. NOW I’ve got to get working on the lease. . .