Hello There Mr Chiropractor

I’ve had some crazy shoulder socket pain this past week, which usually happens when my neck is screwed up. This has led to me become one with a heating pad this weekend.

While laying here today, pondering life (or eating Easter candy and watching Netflix) I realized a way I could vastly improve my quality of life.

You ready? Marry a chiropractor. Yeah. It’s pretty genius. I have minimal desire to ever be married, and even less desire to ever procreate, so my idea of marrying a chiropractor should not be taken lightly. Think about it, it’s the perfect marriage. A man who can make up for all of his annoying traits by aligning my neck and back on a daily basis.

And this little idea of mine isn’t just a one-sided solution. I would Stepford wife it UP for a chiropractor. Fresh muffins in the morning? Sure, honey. Laundry done daily? No problem. Sex on demand? You got it. I’d throw away all of my hopes and dreams, initiative, success, and need for intellectual stimulation – all to be adjusted on demand.

This fantasy leads me to two conclusions. One, I may have laid on the heating pad too long, and two I should see my chiropractor ASAP. I’m clearly delirious from pain.