I have angered the gods.

That’s the only possible explanation.

Sure, Loki’s sick and decided not to eat again, but I can handle that. Sure, my root canal hurts like blazes, but that’s only pain, I can handle that.

I was, in fact, sitting in my chair thinking “Okay, I can handle this.”

And then I got up.

And then some invisible bastard planted a pickaxe under my right shoulderblade. And I did what everyone does in that situation–said “OHGOD” and walked very delicately to the nearest available floor and with varying hissing exclamations and invocations lowered myself flat, which caused the pain to subside to a sharp agony whenever I moved, rather than a sort of paralyzing full-body drop-a-charging-buffalo kinda event.

And then, as everybody also does in that situation, I realized that I had thrown my back out, and had then foolishly laid down on the floor, where I would presumably be trapped until I became enlightened enough to levitate.

James’s head appeared in my field of view. He said “Now, I want you to think about what you’ve done…”

Application of various icy-hot unguents and James’s coaching (he’s thrown his back out a few times in the past–I’ve only done it once, many years ago) got me somewhat mobile–as long as I don’t lift my right arm more than a few inches and don’t breathe deeply, and keep my back absolutely straight I’m okay. Except when I sneeze. Sneezing is bad. This also made me realize that my swearing in times of stress was completely defined by my grandmother–I am nothing remotely resembling a Catholic, and yet, in the extremities of pain, I hear myself yelping “JesusMaryandJoseph! St. Christopher! HolyMaryMotherofGodthathurts!” Childhood programming dies hard.

I feel like I’m trapped in the movie Cujo, with the part of the rabid dog being played by my back. You think it’s forgotten you, and then WHAM! back it comes for an encore. It somehow manages to be both incredibly boring and obnoxious all at once.

As everybody probably yells in this situation–“This isn’t funny! I don’t have time for this! It’s not FAIR!” But it is, kinda, and I don’t, and of course life isn’t fair. But still. Damnit. Not my week.

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