My back is killing me!
I can’t imagine how. It’s not like I go out of my way to strain myself. The opposite is far closer to the truth. If ever there was someone who went out of his way, to the opposite side of the room as it were metaphorically, to avoid physical labor or exertion, well, that’d be me. So how did I hurt myself this time?
My back is simply killing me!
Ever look at that phrase? Always seemed weird to me. I mean, what motive would a back ever have for homicide? Seems self destructive to boot. Doesn’t really fit in with the back, as a whole, as a body part, either. I mean this: backs seem to me to be rather generous. If it weren’t for the back, all your ribs would be in one spot–not nicely spaced throughout the torso. And backs let you bend, twist, stretch–try to twist you knee…hurts, doesn’t it. Not very generous, the knee. Not at all.
So my back hurts, right? I’ve been trying to figure out how it happened. I haven’t lifted anything heavy, because (let’s face it) I would have hired someone in that case to move it. The last heavy thing I moved was my computer desk alone right after my brother moved out of the house. He was gone the day before and I lurched that gigantic metal desk into his old room before the dust had even settled. I was afraid Mom would claim it as a sewing room or something. Funny, Stefan’s old room is still the computer room and my room turned into the most girly guest room of all time. Apparently, lavender and little fairies are so accommodating to travelers–or some such nonsense. I think Mom always wanted a girl. I keep explaining he had Stefan instead, but you know.
So I figure I injured my back by sleeping on it wrong. I do sleep a lot. To me, sleep seems like an excellent use of time. Excellent. A lot of people take sleeping for granted, but I had insomnia for a while and you really do get an appreciation for sleep after that. The key is to come up with a ritual. Every night before I go to sleep, I rinse out with mouthwash, take whatever vitamins and pills the doc has me on that cost so dang much, say my little bedtime prayers, change into a costume of a vampire and hang upside down in my closet. Well, I must. Because my back is KILLING me and it can’t be that mattress.
My brother just got a new mattress–I think this is the same one the Princess with the pea must have had, because you climb in it with a stepladder and when you sink into the middle of it, your nose just barely grazes the ceiling. Comfortable if you can handle the altitude.
So I slept wrong. Someone told me if I would take better care of myself, I wouldn’t have these little pains. Well, I’m sorry, but taking care of myself (whatever that’s supposed to mean) isn’t going to take the place of aspirin anytime soon, you dolt! And I’ve never met someone that takes such good care of themselves. I take myself out to eat all the time, I let myself have extra portions of that giant chocolate chip cookie Mommy made for me, and I buy myself little toys and DVDs every time I do something nice. (Thank goodness that ain’t often or I’d be broke.)
In fact, I just got myself this nice new amplification mixer board to celebrate the launch of my new charity–the “Save the Vegetables” campaign I’m starting out of the house. I figure that to be pretty thoughtful, you know? I figure I can save all sorts of vegetable life.
It’s a popular issue–I wouldn’t be surprised some Senate candidate takes it up somewhere along the way. I mean, look at how the Senior President Bush was villainized for saying “I hate broccoli.” Well, I love broccoli. So much, I never want to see it get hurt. Why would I take something I love and mash it up between my molars and canine teeth? Some people love their pet cats. Do you suppose they eat them? NO! Well, mostly no! That’d be wrong. Juggle them once in a while, but very seldom would they eat them.
Broccoli, in particular, seems like a very down-to-earth type of veggie. They kind of sit there, organizing the church bake sales, learning all the latest dance moves, and going to work nine to five when suddenly some evil farmer comes by and digs their vegetable bottom right out of the dirt. That stinks! Poor little fellers.
I hope those farmers get a bad back digging out those defenseless veggies. Would serve them right! At least, I think that’s how I feel about it. I better think it over. Maybe I’ll sleep on it.