In the middle of the night, at 1:11 to be exact, fire engines showed up at the apartment building across the street, which happens every so often but never results in anything like the incineration of the infernal air handler that handles its air with such gusto right across from our bedroom window. They left, but some sort of electrical-problem-fixing truck remained, idling its wheezing, creaky engine.
I know this much about it because at 2 am I walked across the street to find out what was going on; the extraordinarily rude guy (probably awoken from a dead sleep just slightly earlier than I had been) says to me, of all things, “What’s going on?”
When I responded with the same question he says “Electrical equipment shorted out.”
“Does this truck need to keep idling?”
“Yes it does, until someone gets here to help me.” (very helpful)
“What electrical equipment?” (hoping it was the air handler)
“A cut-off. You know what that is?”
It’s hard to be treated like a dumb blonde anytime, much less in the middle of the night. I crept back home, and so, while listening to the truck idle for a few more hours, had time to think about my bones busily rearranging themselves.
Everything ached, especially the very end of my spine, which apparently curves nastily to the left, toward the aching hip, before dipping back to the right. It felt so good, there on the table as she nudged it back, as I rhythmically pointed one heel, then the other, at the far wall. (How did Ida Rolf figure out all these things?)
When I stood up I felt light, filled with helium. Walk, she said. Remember the bobble-head.
It takes some rearrangement of thought to connect an aching hip, which mine had been for the last week, with that wonderful Atlas vertabra. I’d totally forgotten about it.
A very obvious thought suddenly occurred to me: Rolfing is a partnership. It’s not like a massage, where you lie there and feel good and go home and feel good for awhile and then ache again and go back the next week to do it all over again.
Here I am today, bones rearranged, truck gone, bobbling.