I thought I would wake up in serious back pain after re-injuring it by trying to run my dishwasher.

But I didn't toss and turn in my sleep and woke up laying on my heating pad the same as I fell asleep. Now, granted, I only managed to sleep 4 hours and 10 minutes (according to my Apple Watch), but still... I was quite happy, because my back felt... fine?!? Last thing I remember my cats were both next to me, but only Jake remained when I woke up.

Well, fine enough that I didn't end up taking a muscle relaxer, but it was far from great. Though when I got home I vacuumed the floor without issue, so maybe resting over the weekend will heal me up that I can have a semi-normal week next week.

Now, I realize it's not Caturday until tomorrow, but I am compelled to share the photo I took before falling asleep yesterday. Jake is infamous for hopping on the bed where Jenny is sleeping and laying on top of her legs or her head or whatever. Except last night Jake lay down just next to her, and I was thrilled that he didn't disturb her spot since she was there first.

Then he started kicking his legs, waking her up (again), before he finally stuck one of his legs through hers. She was, as you'd imagine, thrilled...

Thank heavens I was looking at my phone at the time this happened. Usually I miss photos of moments like this.

But then she fell back asleep, so no harm no foul, I guess?

Until sometime in the middle of the night Jake did something to make her scamper off.

My back muscles must be getting weak in my old age, because I've vomited plenty of times in my life and never ended up with a back spasm. But now? Apparently it's cause enough.

And do you want to know the worst part of laying down after work for the rest of the day so you can try to heal instead of having to take muscle relaxers for a month? It's the filth.

I am not an immaculate housekeeper (except for my kitchen, which I try to keep very clean at all times because I make meals there). But I do try to make sure that I clean up any messes I make, pick up after the cats, and keep the place clean enough that I'm not mortified if somebody drops by.

Except now I can't. Every room is a mess. There's a paper towel I dropped two days ago on the living room floor. The bathroom was already overdue for cleaning. I've got dirty clothes thrown everywhere. There's cracker crumbs by my bed, in my bed, next to the counch, on the couch, and in the couch. Plus the sink is full of dirty dishes. Which mostly belong to the cats because I've been on an all-cracker diet. Which would be fine except fish residue smells after a few days. Badly.

Tonight I finally couldn't take it any more and decided to load the dishwasher as carefully as possible. Only the top rack so I don't have to bend over too far. The silverware I put in the rack on the dishwasher door instead of in the bottom rack like I usually do because it seems they would get cleaner there. I only managed to get the rack on one of the two pegs, but close enough.

Everything was going fine.

Until I bent over to get a soap pellet from the bottom shelf of the cupboard without thinking.

There goes my pill-free day.

So now I'm back on the couch waiting for the muscle relaxer to kick in so I can make my way up the stairs to bed.

In all honesty, I thought climbing in and out of my car would be my downfall, not cat dishes.

What's worse than having a smoke allergy during wildfires? Vomiting so hard that you throw your back into spasm, so now you have two things to torment you.*

On Saturday morning I was feeling so much better. But then nausea returned with a vengeance that night. I had anti-nausea pills left from something, which helped... but they were gone before I knew it and I had to wait until today for that plus some muscle relaxers for the stabbing pain in my back when I move. Or, Lord help me, cough.

Or, you know, violently throw up because you thought pasta salad was a good move.

Fortunately, laying on a heating pad got me through Sunday and the pills got me through my work day today (and I was able to keep dry toast down) so it was more of the same, I suppose.

There was a good thing that happened though.

While laying on the heating pad all day yesterday, I ran across an Australian show on Hulu which is one of the best things I've seen in a minute. I was going to take a pass because it deals with self-harm, but the trailer looked so good...

And I'm ever so glad I watched it.

It tackles a difficult, sensitive, and painful subject with wit, charm, and compassion... and is entertaining on top of it all. Exactly the diversion I needed, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I'm probably going to watch it again very soon.

There is one lingering question I have about the series that I won't say here because it could spoil things. Maybe it will be answered in the second season. Or maybe it never will because it's supposed to be up to the viewer. It doesn't matter. What does matter is how much I loved In Limbo.

Highest recommendation.

   
   
*Aside from the usual torments of daily life, of course.

I wrecked my legs working on my front flower beds and installing new security cameras last weekend. This morning I thought I was finally recovering a bit, only to find that I had pulled a muscle in my back as I was attempting to walk so I wasn't hurting my legs.

Essentially trading one pain for another.

Albeit a much much more painful one.

Most times Ibuprofen can handle it. But the minute I twist wrong or bend in a way my back doesn't like... unbelievable searing pain goes shooting through my back that hurts so bad I can barely breathe. The worst pain is when I lay down. It's so awful that I've tried sleeping while sitting up, but I can't manage it. My back brace helps, but not enough.

And so...

Not a great time to be Dave2 right now.

It would be great if I could just dope up on pain-killers and muscle-relaxers and sleep all day, but... off to work I go.

Before I left for Seattle last week, I sprained my right-hand ring finger. Not only did it hurt like hell, but I am having to wear a splint on it for the next couple months to avoid getting a mallet finger. Next week I'm hoping to find time to visit the doctor and make sure I don't need surgery or physical therapy (which would make a sucky situation even suckier).

But why stop there? On Tuesday I pulled a muscle in my back. About the only thing I can do to avoid pain is to lay flat and not move. This is highly impractical, because driving a car requires one to sit up. And so I spend my days doped up on pain-killers while attempting to find a sitting position at my desk which won't bring me to tears.

But why stop there? This morning as I was attempting to get into my car with as little back-trauma as possible, I smacked the side of my head into the door frame. The hit was so hard that I fell into my seat stunned and seeing stars. Suddenly my back didn't feel quite so bad. Something tells me that this is a headache that will be around for a few days.

But why stop there? Limping along with my splinted finder, aching back, throbbing head, and in a pain-killer-induced haze, I managed to step wrong on my foot tonight while climbing stairs. So now I've got a sprained left ankle as well.

What's next?

Well, I've still got hips that are in pretty good shape, so I'm guessing I'll be run over in the street tomorrow morning so I can get me a fractured pelvis.

If everything happens for a reason, I'm sure there's some kind of master plan at work here.

Or I'm being tortured.

Either way, I'm assuming that I've got a rough couple of weeks ahead of me.