Confession time, so gather round everybody. You wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity to stare and mock the freak.
I…don’t like children.
I just don’t like them. Everything about them just repels me, so when it comes to a choice between babysitting for friends, or literally anything else, I will pick option B. Yes, anything else please, with a side helping of ‘literally’. So that’s how I ended up booking a dry needling course in the centre of Brisbane, with some friends who I don’t even know that well.
We used to know each other, but this was a few years ago back in uni. Now when we meet up it’s like a little bit of our friendship has obviously degraded every time, and it just becomes more awkward. Still, we’re at the stage where we still sometimes invite each other places- probably out of obligation- and they’re all going to a dry needling course in Sydney. I think one of them had it booked as part of a company thing, Tasha said she was going along because of her love for the environment and desire to support sustainable relaxation methods (dry needling is one of them apparently), Leighton went along because he’s in love with Tasha and all of us can see it except her, and I’m going because my next door neighbours are going to a concert and they were clearly on the hunt for babysitters.
I just remember Leighton posting something about it, so I blurted it out. Yep, dry needling, definitely, so sorry I can’t babysit your three screech-monsters. And I don’t hate the thought of dry needling either; don’t get me wrong. Sounds pretty interesting, and trigger points are an interesting enough subject. Could even help me with work…somehow.
So those are my Saturday night plans. Dry needling course, booking in Sydney, right now. Get on it. It’ll be a blast. Better than looking after The Infernal Howling Goblin-Spawn of Ascot Street.