Well, is it?
Two weeks ago, I had an appointment with my chiropractor, but when I showed up, his colleague said he’d already left. Well! It turned out he’d had an emergency with his dog, and he apologized profusely, saying it was not like him to forget an appointment and the next one would be on him.
So I showed up last week, he apologized again, took some extra time torturing me, and then said afterward, “Don’t you dare try to give me any money.”
Is it incredibly perverse of me that my stomach lurched and I had a strong desire to answer,
“Really? What if I do?”
The last time I had this type of fascination with a professional who inflicts therapeutic pain was my personal trainer, many years ago. Stay tuned.