Welllll-come,” a blonde-haired lady says in a haunting voice, like a spider ready to trap the fly.
On one side of the room, water gushes down the side of a stone wall. It suggests pipes have burst from somewhere in the ceiling. But it’s actually a water feature in the spa’s lobby.
“Just a little paperwork,” says the blonde-haired lady as she hands me a form on a clipboard.
I don’t know how you celebrate Mother’s Day, but I’m observing the occasion by treating myself to a facial at this spa with low-lighting and a gushing wall. But first, paperwork.