As the clock runs out leading up to my surgery, I'm getting a flurry of unexpected calls from people wanting to schedule a massage.
So many people (and so much money) that I'd be tempted to suspect a pronoid* fantasy of people conspiring to hit me with a raft of money just before I go off work for awhile, except that these are mainly people I've never seen before.
One more night in my own bed....
//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Why wait until the last minute?"
*Opposite of paranoid.
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