I've thrown out my back. That statement could mean one of two things 1) someone inadvertantly tossed my spine into the bin without looking between the newspapers (also the Black Hole for homework and other important documents ~ it's a theory I'm working on) or 2) I've done something completely mindless and stupid resulting in an injury to my sacroiliac. I wish I could state that I was having fun, doing the Twist or the Mashed Potato while imbibing an Apple Martini when my spine decided to leave the room, but I wasn't. My aching back is a result of House Cleaning ~ an over-rated, odious, repetitive activity. It's bad enough my Inner Bohemian Artist retreats to the furthest depths of my mind at the thought of vacuuming, but to spend the rest of the week limping around like Peg-Leg Pete due to one lousy day of cleaning is just pathetic. And then it makes me feel all the more freakish about . . . y'know . . . getting old. All I did was move an air conditioner. By myself. To ask for help means that I'd have to wait two weeks which drives me bananas. Nothing worse than having an air conditioner leering at one through an open window long past summer. Actually, there is something worse: It's when all five of one's able-bodied cats (one feline is so old she can be carbon dated) have discovered the hole on one side of the leering air conditioner and have been using that egress since then to drag in a few new-found buddies like Mr. Mole or Ms. Chipmunk and how about good ol' Master Chickadee? Sometimes, I just find barely identifiable parts ~ none of which I can use for dinner. So, it makes me feel old that I'd have to request assistance for something I could easily move on my own when I was twenty. Maybe I could decorate it for the holidays. Jack O' Lanterns for Halloween, lights for Christmas, Easter eggs for . . . well . . . Easter.
In order to get on the mend, I've spent the day puttering and knitting and reading. Not sitting, lying or standing for too long. I need to be in shape for the Friday Night Chinese Dinner/Theater Sleep Over for Ian's 9th birthday with FOUR EXTRA boys. (Did I not mention I'd sold my soul to get to the Sheep & Wool this Sunday? The deal is sealed. Anyone else who has made similar arrangements to attend can meet me later in the Underworld. I'll be wearing the green and purple striped socks. BYOK ~ Bring Your Own Knitting. Oh, wait, we'll be in Hell. Nevermind.) As testoscerone levels will be abnormally high in this humble abode, Bennie will be camping out at Kirsten's with Jade in a more girl-friendly atmosphere. Then we all go to the movies Saturday. "Wallace and Grommet." Should be a hoot.
Now, as I've sat long enough, I need to go lean against something and heat up dinner. I think we'll just have frozen peas.