Thanks, Baby Jesus.
I swear the cosmos has it out for me. Since I turned 42, I've been more sore, achy and creaky than in my previous 41 years. On my birthday I woke up with a crick in my neck. The next day I had a sore back that persisted for days. Then yesterday happened.
I was doing the laundry, innocently pondering the random cough I have. I have no other symptoms but a dry hacking cough that is starting to make a curious sound way down deep. Of course what happens when you think about coughing? You cough. I then indulged in the most deep cleansing hacks you've ever heard. So deep, in fact, that I threw out my back. You heard. On the effing first day of my holidays.
As I've previously stated, my children are cruel taskmasters. Lucky for me, yesterday there was nothing on their schedule but laundry and playdates. I crawled up from the laundryroom, walked hunchbacked over to the bathroom and swallowed one of my honey's anti-inflammatories and 2 Tylenols. Then I beat feet (okay, shuffled Tim Conway style... yes, I'm old, I get it) to the couch where I made a little command centre outfitted with computer, phone, pillows, remotes and snacks. And there I sat until bedtime.
If Baby Jesus has any mercy in his tiny Pampers, he'd heal my aching back in the next few hours so I can make my cruel taskmasters happy later. It's movie day today.