I didn’t think my apartment was that bad, until its third visitor felt it was time to have The Conversation. Somehow, I had taken the friend running out the door, screaming, after using my bathroom, and the stray comment, “It looks like it’s been hit by a typhoon,” as biased reactions from anal retentive people.
Enter The Conversation. I don’t really know how to describe it, but it’s the kind of thing a girl never wants to hear. What a nutcase I must look like. I can’t believe I’m even exposing this deep and dark and dirty secret (and oh is it) to the world.
So after my morning ride, I accepted my personal responsibility and proceeded to throw out my back while cleaning off a computer monitor.
I really cannot believe it. Such a simple manuever, the most subtle of moves. I felt a snap, and thought, Oh, that’s funny, that felt like my lower back, ha ha. Then I noticed difficulties lifting objects, and moving, in general, and some tingling in my feet.
Perhaps a hot shower will help, I reasoned. And I could barely lift my left leg, and then I realized this is a problem.
How did I suddenly become an old woman? I mean, aside from just getting older. There was an actual trigger point. Something caused this.
My kitchen will meet the health code, but I ask you, The People, is cleaning worth the health risks?
DO NOT ANSWER THAT QUESTION, IT WAS RHETORICAL. Some anti-inflammatories, a glass of red wine, I am doing fine (read: better), and I can make my way to the bathroom without tripping, so there is a silver lining. I’ll figure out where to sit later.