The undomestic Goddess. Sophie Kinsella.

Maya looks up, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You are obviously quite a stressed-out woman"
What? Where does she get that from? I specifically put down on that form, I'm NOT and stressed-out woman.
"No, I'm not," I hope Maya is taking in my relaxed see-how-unstressed-I am smile. She looks unconvinced.
"Your job is obviously very pressured."
"I thrive under pressure," I explain. Which is true. I've known that about myself since...
Well, ever since my mother told me, when I was about eight. Our whole family thrives under pressure. It's like a family motto or something.
apart form my brother Peter, of course. He had a nervous breakdown. But the rest of us.
I love my job. I love spotting the loophole on a contract. I love the thrill of negotiation, and arguing my case, and making the sharpest point in the room. I love the adrenaline rush of closing a deal.
I suppose just occasionally I do feel as though someone's piling heavy weights on me. Like big concrete blocks, one on top of another, and I have to keep holding them up, no matter how exhausted I am...
But then everyone probably feels like that. It's normal.
"You're skin is very dehydrated." Maya is shaking her head. She runs an expert hand across my cheek and place her fingers underneath my jaw, looking concerned. "Your heart rate is very high. That's not healthy. Are you feeling particularly tense?"
"Work's pretty busy at the moment." I shrug. "It's just a blimp, I'm fine." can we get on with it?
"Well," Maya gets up. She presses a button set in the wall and gentle pan-pipe music fills the air. "All I an say is, you've come to the right place, Samantha. Our aim here is to de-stress, revitalize and detoxify."
"Lovely" I say, only half listening. I've just remembered that I never got back to David Elldridge about the Ukrainian oil contract, I meant to call him yesterday. Shit.
"our aim is to provide a heaven of tranquility, away from all your day-to-day worries." Maya presses another button in the wall, and the light dims to a muted glow. "Before we starts," she says softly, "do you have any questions?"
"Actually, I do." I lean forward.
"Good!" she beams. "Are you curious about today's treatments, or is it something more general?"
"Could I possibly send a quick e-mail?"
Maya's smile freezes on her face.
"Just quickly," I add. "It won't take two secs-"
"Samantha, Samantha..." Maya shakes her face. "You are here to relax. to take a moment to yourself. Not to send e-mails. E-mail's an obsession! An addiction! As evil as alcohol. Or caffeine."
For goodness sake, I'm not OBSESSED. I mean, that's ridiculous. I check my e-mails about once every... thirty seconds, maybe.
The thing is, a lot can change in thirty seconds.
"And besides, Samantha," Maya goes on. "Do you see a computer in this room?"
"No," I reply obediently looking around the dim little room, at posters of yoga positions and a wind chime and row of crystals arranged on the windowsill.
"This is why we ask that you leave all electronic equipment in the safe. No mobile phones are permitted. No little computers." Maya spreads her arms. "This is a retreat. An escape from the world."
"Right." I nod meekly.
Now is probably not the time to reveal that I have a Black-Berry hidden in my paper knickers.
"So let's begin." Maya smiles. "Lie down, please, under a towel. And remove your watch."
"I need my watch!"
"Another addiction," she tsks reprovingly. "You don't need to know the time while you're here."
She turns away, and with reluctance, I take off my watch.

I think this is funny because of the irony. She is at a spa to relax and she can only think about work. I love the way she describes what she's thinking, which is completely ironic, the opposite of what the audience expects. I really like this book, it a fun way to pass the time. Obviously she's not Jane Austen, but trust me, you'll have a good laugh.