As of late, the staying power of Asian-owned body services establishments has intrigued me. I’ve yet to see a Going Out of Business sign on a nail salon; in fact, new ones seem to be opening daily.

A reflexology provider has opened next to the grocery I frequent on Wednesdays. They’re having a grand opening special: 60 minutes for $30. This appeared an incredibly good deal–until I learned (after my session) that the regular rate is $35.

After six consecutive days of voluntary incarceration in response to the very real risk of spontaneously combusting between the front porch and the vehicle, David asked what I’d like to do today.

I needed nary a moment to answer.

“That one-hour reflexology special,” I said. “I’m going there.”

And I did.

A lovely Korean gentleman ushered me to my reclining chair. It quickly became clear that my therapist and I would be communicating entirely with hand gestures, as Chun-Lee speaks exactly two words in English: “Hi” and “No.” The whole thing felt eerily familiar; like a never-ending afternoon with a toddler.

Like an ethnic restaurant at which neither the employees nor the patrons speak much English, I was going under the assumption that these people truly know what they’re doing. I was also pretending I’d left the country for an hour.

After about 15 minutes, Chun-Lee started on my feet. I have to momentarily stop the story here to ask if you watch The Amazing Race. If you don’t, ignore the next few sentences. If you do, did you see the last race wherein participants had to endure 10 minutes of traditional foot reflexology during which they writhed in pain? Did you sit on your bed, as I did, wondering how badly that could really hurt? Well, let me assure you…very badly.

A few seconds in, I heard what I was convinced was my soul screaming for mercy. But, in fact, it was only my ringing cell phone (which the gentleman up front had kindly asked me to turn off, but I’d forgotten amidst my joy at having temporarily escaped the country in which my children can’t seem to stop yelling).

Embarrassed, I asked Chun-Lee to hand me my purse; he didn’t understand. So everyone was subjected to the “I Like to Move It” ringtone for 27 very long seconds.

After my session ended, I called home. What, I wondered, was so urgent that it required my answering a mid-trip-to-Korea phone call?

“Well,” said a solemn David, “Grace went upstairs a bit ago and, a few minutes later, began yelling ‘Lennie’s not breathing! Lennie’s not breathing!’ Turns out, she wasn’t. Lennie, the hamster, has peacefully passed on.”

“Oh,” I responded, not sure whether to be saddened or relieved. “Was Grace devastated?”

“Well, she tried to act like she was, but I think she’s more relieved at not having to clean the cage anymore. She said cake would make her feel better, and then quickly segued to an ongoing monologue detailing the average life span of a hamster and the fact that Lennie apparently surpassed it.”

I pulled into the driveway, and mentally prepared for the pet funeral–the second in the last few months.

I didn’t think it was appropriate to flush Lennie like we did Cosmo. George did.

We gathered ’round Lennie’s cage and said a prayer, wishing Lennie the best in Hamster Heaven.

It was then time to “dispose” of Lennie’s earthly body. I realize that burying it is the most appropriate course of action. With two dogs, however, David didn’t think there was a hole deep enough to prevent the inevitable discovery, unearthing, and depositing of a decomposing hamster into the family room.

“Grace,” I delicately suggested, “How about if Papa holds the trash bag and you delicately pour the contents of Lennie’s cage into it.”

“You mean, pour Lennie into that TRASH BAG?” questioned Grace, horrified.

“Um, yes,” I quietly confirmed.

This is the expression with which she responded.

“David,” I called upstairs. “You’re going to have to dump the body yourself.”

Grace is still standing in the dining room wearing the same expression as in the above photo.

May Lennie the Overachiever rest in peace. And may the feeling in the bottom of my feet return sometime this week.

***

Have you ever had foot reflexology? Any tips for a less painful but equally therapeutic experience?