I would kill for one right now. I don’t know why, but my back is really itchy today. I’ve tried scratching it with a ruler, but it’s just not doing it for me.
I wish someone with long fingernails could scratch every itch of my back for me. Hell, I’d even be willing to pay up to $30 for it!
Purely as a gesture of sympathy, I suggest you look up the old Allan Sherman song “That Old Back Scratcher” (sung to the tune of “That Old Black Magic”). You can easily google up many sites with the lyrics, or listen at That Old Back Scratcher by Allan Sherman - YouTube
“You tame that tingle,
When I’m all alone.
For I am single, so
To itch his own.”
I think I know why, though. I’m wearing some no-name undershirt I bought oversees last week. I never bothered to wash it after pulling it from it’s package, then crammed it into my suitcase all week.
It’s clean, but it feels a bit… off. I have been scratching all damn day.
I feel you. I keep 2 back scratchers in the house (one next to the bed) and often scratch on the corners of the walls like Mr. Kestrel and when I’m at my desk my favorite thing to use is a pair of scissors. :o
I often equate being single to being physically disabled in some way. Everything seems to take twice as long to accomplish and we have to use lots of clever tools.
I have few fixed chores in life. I carry heavy things. I kill multi-legged critters. I hold doors and chairs. And damn near every night since we have been together, I have scratched SWMBO’s back and made her purr like a kitten.
Hey, I get my brownie points every which way I can!!!
I used to have this metal spaghetti fork from Ecko that had tines with rounded ends. It was such a wonderful back scratcher I kept it between the seats in my car to use while driving (down feathers poking through my parka would drive me nuts) and then forgot to take it out when we traded the car in…I miss it to this day because it was the perfect size, shape, material, and of course, discontinued. Now I use a long-handled bath brush. I keep one here by the computer, hanging from a hook, and one hanging from the drawer knob of my nightstand. Sheer heaven.
Finally had to break down and buy one of those long-handled lotion dispensers for rubbing lotion on my back. I never hate being single more than when I’m trying to rub lotion on my own self.
My husband, also a door-jamb scratcher, had to help my untangle my yarn again tonight. As I was holding up my project and he was “wropping” the skein I said, “If I lived alone I don’t know if I could make it.” He said, “I know. I’m only here to serve you.”
He drives me up the wall sometimes. He’s also a pillar of my foundation.
Just depends on whether you can live with a load-bearing post in the middle of the room.