A dramatic re-telling of last Friday, by Tricia D. Picture it: One grouchy, emotionally charged girlfriend. One man slice trying not to say the wrong things. Fog and wind. Holiday weekend.... Me: This week was no good. And it's freezing in SF. I changed my mind about being OK with staying local. I desperately want to get the eff out of this city. B: Yea, I love this city, but it is effing cold. What are you thinking? Me: Luxury. B: That sounds expensive... Me: I don't care. I NEED THIS. B (backing away slowly): OK, but we were just talking about saving money.... Me (eye twitching): Right, yea, no, yea except I don't care. One day. One day of luxury. ONEDAYOFLUXURYINTHESUN. I beg. B (a quick learner): Sounds good! And so, to Indian Springs we trekked, massage appointments made and sunscreen slathered on for a bit of mineral water poolside fun. It was precisely what the PMS doctor ordered. Side note: I normally dislike this quick and stereotypical excuse for female mood fluctuations, especially when used as an insult by a male...but in this particular case? 100% accurate. Hormone crazy brain like whoa. Men, truly, have no idea what it's like to feel this way once a month, for reasons that science or God or nature or the Universe dictates. And by "this way" I obviously mean:
The facilities were beautiful, clean, and oh so peaceful at this schmancy joint. I could feel my mood shift the minute we stepped out of the car. Ahhh, luxury. How deeply you heal me. Here is how B looked, floating around like a Giorgio Armani cologne advertisement... 
And here's how I looked, trying to wiggle myself onto the float without falling in (for the 5th time)... 
This difference in "cool" is so annoying, but I'll save that breakdown for another post.
Anyway, Indian Springs rocks, and you should totally visit sometime. I will gladly go back with you, and I promise I am an absolute delight when I'm here, full moon or not :) In Gratitude, Trish
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