Mid-afternoon I wandered into the kitchen for a snack, and noticed a battery on the ground. I'm guessing that the kittens knocked it off of something because, well, that's what kittens do. (They also shredded the backs of my dining room chairs by walking on them, but that's another story.) I bent down to pick the battery up, and my lower back chose that moment to protest. It did so strenuously and vociferously.
I tried to stand up, and couldn't. Hrmm. I pivoted a bit, leaned on the cabinet that was behind me, and managed to get mostly upright. Ow. Fuck. It was sore from the left side of my lower back around to the center of my left hip, with twinges that went all the way down to the bottom of my foot.
Having stood up, I tried to take a few steps. "OW! FUCK!" Somehow I managed to get to the sink, swallow some ibuprofen, then walk across the loft and sit down at my desk. The act of sitting down was... well... I'm sure it would have been amusing if I was watching it, in that schadenfreude-tainted way that America's Funniest Home Videos is hilarious.
Sitting, not so good. After a couple of minutes of searching the web for lower back pain information, I decided that the right thing to do was get flat on my back in bed.
Oh dear. My bed. I don't have a normal bed in my loft. Rather, I have a mattress that sits on top of a waist-high sleeping platform. Here's a picture of the room, though it was taken before I moved in. Still, my mattress is in nearly the same place. The platform is about hip-high, and getting into bed requires climbing up onto the platform then crawling in.
Did I mention it's a waterbed? With a memory foam top? It's very soft and squishy.
I somehow managed to make it into bed with only a few ow-fucks, and got a couple of pillows under my knees. Nope, one more... ow, fuck. Wait, that's too many, get that last one out. Ow ow ow fuck.
Once I was in bed for a few minutes a horrible realization sunk in-- I might never make it out. Fuck. Climbing out of the soft squishy platform bed is waaaaay harder than climbing in.
I managed to find positions that were not too uncomfortable for a while, but they didn't last long. I stayed in bed for a couple of hours, then spent about ten years getting out. Maybe it was only ten minutes, but it sure felt like forever.
So now I'm moving like a little old lady. I'm a little better than I was a few hours ago, through the miracles of ibuprofen, tiger balm, ice, and epsom salts. Still, ow. Fuck! Getting old sucks. And I'd smash that battery to smithereens just out of spite, if only I could manage to get it off the floor.
I wonder how many calories there are in ibuprofen...