For Want of a Heating Pad

Two events occurred last week of significance (three, if you count the big storms that blew through the other night, but I digress...) One is that I went to the storage unit again (I know, big whoop; but it ties into the post later). I collected some items that we deemed useful, but non-critical: my venerable old Mac, with its Zip drive and monitor; a few of Ness' toys, a few of Mike's items that he thought missing, and a few odds and ends Mama called out the door for me to bring back as I left. Oh, and some dishes we needed (still p.o.'ed that I can't find the lid to the stock pot, however.)

Before I left the unit, I made one final check to make sure I wasn't leaving anything behind that I'd need later. Books? Nope. Cassette tapes (God, am I still using those? Why?) Nope. More toys for Ness? Nope. Mike's swords*? Hell, no! The electric fans? Mm, well, maybe the tabletop. My old heating pad? Well, I have thrown my back out at least once since losing the house, but...nah, I think I can do without it.

Once I got everything bungeed onto my folding cart properly, I headed for home via the two bus transfers and the mile-and-a-half walk the journey would require.

Flash forward to the other significant event of the past week. Yep, threw my back out. Friday. Had to carry a bin full of laundry upstairs. In order to keep from tripping over my own big feet and bouncing back downstairs, I held the bin out from my body so I could see the steps.

Bad move. Really stupid move. And my lower back muscles wasted no time in letting me know just how stupid a move it was. I was laid up all day Saturday and Sunday. I had to call in sick to work, making an intolerable financial situation even more so. And although I don't mind spending a weekend lying in bed reading a stack of books, it's rather hard to do when every move you make brings a new wave of pain and the kids decide "Daddy's hurt; let's act like total savages now!" And it really doesn't help when the Beast sitting in my psyche chortling and going, "Nyah, nyah! See? You could've brought your heating pad, but NOOOOO!"

Even now, I have to sit a certain way in the chair so I can use the computer without looking like an escaped hospital patient. And you should see me hobbling down the street like a crippled caveman trying to look cool and in control when my back is screaming otherwise.

Got to go in to work tomorrow. I might be able to do so...if there's some Tylenol left in the medicine cabinet.

*In a lapse of mentality that perplexes me to this day, a couple years ago, my ex-wife gave Mike a set of shortwords for his birthday. I have no problem with this, as he is quite willing to aid in the defense of the home if necessary, but I made sure to admonish him that his sister was not to come anywhere near those things, and that he was only to have them out of the sheath in an emergency or if he were training with them. Of course, they've been in storage up till now, so the point is kinda moot.

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