I threw my back out yesterday. Like takes-ten-minutes-to-put-my-socks-on out. God knows how I did it. I think all of the cat-robatics that I do getting out of bed in the morning to not squish Gwennie have caught up with me.
Every night, she curls up right against my left side, pinning my elbow to my side. I love that she snuggles with me, but in the morning when I go to turn my alarm off and get out of bed, I have to do some extreme Cirque du Soleil to escape the cat trap.
So here I am, five pillows and a heating pad later, all ambitions of cleaning this house and doing anything but remaining as still as possible tossed to the wind.
There are a number of activities that prove incredibly difficult when you hurt your back. Quite frankly, I took them for granted before. Never again.
Shaving my legs. I was feeling ambitious this morning, even though it took me two minutes just to waddle to the shower itself, but the shaving did not happen. I realized after I stood there, staring at my toes, trying to imagine in my head how I would bend down and make this magic happen that it was all a pipe dream. Sorry, K.
Putting on socks. It didn't occur to me until I went to go do it this morning just how difficult it would be. I had to carefully perch myself on a corner of the bed, use my left fingers to pry open the neck of the sock and inch it towards my foot as gently as possible. With my right hand, I tried to aim my toes toward the opening. (Scrunch socks were a bad plan, by the way. I should have gone with cheerleader socks.)
Stairs. Never have I been so grateful that we have two railings going up the stairs, because I needed them both. I had to consciously will each foot to move down each stair, hoping one wouldn't trip up and sneak under the other, causing a treacherous tumble.
Feeding the cats. Those poor little suckers had to wait seven excruciating minutes for me to get up the courage to bend down and pour them some food. What was really awesome was when they were headbutting my ankles so hard I thought I was going to crash and burn. This is a precariously balanced situation, if you haven't noticed, kitties.
These are the simple things that took me hours to accomplish yesterday. I bet my neighbors are getting a kick out of watching me hobble about the house with my hand on my back like I'm 90. Maybe tomorrow I'll take an extra hour, get dressed in front of the window and show them how a real woman puts on socks.