I get an odd sense of satisfaction from finishing body products. Squeezing that very last drop out of a shampoo bottle, the last pouf of facial cleansing mousse, the vestiges of spot treatment in a wanded tube. I think it stems from being such a procrastinator: I rarely wind up finishing my creative projects, so I eke out feelings of accomplishment wherever I can. Shit, that’s pathetic. I didn’t used to be this way. I used to regularly do things to completion. That sounds like it cost an extra $40 at a massage parlour. $40 seems pretty cheap actually. I mean really that sort of thing should cost $50 minimum, but closer to $80 or a hundred. Though I suppose $100 might be a bit steep for something you could do at home on your own. I guess it depends on what type of place, what city, what the massage parlour attendant looks like, how big their boobs are, etc. I feel bad for real masseuses. They’ve gone to school, they have training and certificates and student debt, and I bet every time they tell someone what they do they’re met with waggling eyebrows.