When You Have an Unbroken Back, You Have Everything

I took a day off from work today. Because 21 snow days is not enough.

I still have three days remaining of my allotted contract sick leave and personal days that will simply disappear on the last day of school like a burst soap bubble. Such a hardship to have accumulated the maximum.

This day had been planned for almost a week. It seems Val is scarily psychic about her days off. Who knew I would be laid up with a broken back on this very date? Okay. So my back has not been officially diagnosed as broken. The internet tells me it is a rib that popped out of its little socket, and now the surrounding muscles are rebelling, and perhaps keeping it from slipping right back where it belongs.

I saw a cohort on the school parking lot this morning when I dropped off The Pony. She had the same malady last week, and looked like death warmed over for three days. The difference is, she acquired her injury from working out. Mine was from...um...not working out. She laughed and told me she knew I was miserable, and that she hoped I would get over it quickly. Too bad laughing did not cause her a relapse. I asked how she got through it, and she replied, "Muscle relaxers and a trip to the chiropractor." Since I have neither, I will be toughing it out. She did recommend ice, which I applied around noon, and obtained some relief.

From school, I went by my mom's house to drop off The Pony's laptop. Mom was picking him up from school today, then Hick was getting him after work for an informational meeting in preparation for his Missouri Scholars Academy attendance this summer. I didn't get out to visit with Mom. I still had to make a trip to Walmart for a few items. Saving my energy was important. Of course Mom made me laugh, and that set off a renewed spasm of agony.

Thank goodness Walmart had a cart for me to lean on like a walker. Or so I thought. It seems that the Walmart floor-sweepers are not as conscientious as they might be, or that hooligans run amok on the makeup aisle. Believe me, I was not shopping for makeup, but merely taking what I believed to be a shortcut. One lady was blocking the aisle. She kind of huffed and hauled her cart over to the side. I'm pretty sure she's one of those drivers who take her half out of the middle as well.

So there I was, wheeling my walker cart up the makeup aisle, when IT SLAMMED TO A STOP LIKE I HAD COLLIDED WITH A BRICK WALL! Oh, my aching back. That set off a new spasm. It was all I could do not to scream. I didn't want that blocker woman to think I was challenging her to a fight. I pulled my cart back in an effort to lose whatever had acted like a tire wedge on my left front wheel. You won't believe what stopped me in my tracks and caused me such agony.

IT WAS A PINK PRESS-ON FINGERNAIL!

That definitely added insult to my injury. I need to stay home, wrap myself in roll of carded cotton, lay down on a mountain of memory foam, and heal. But I am needed at school, what with the end finally in sight, and the students having a whiff of freedom cross their nostrils every fifty minutes. Two days in a row out from under my iron-fisted thumb is not a pleasant scenario.

I really hope Hick does not put a pea under my mattress to test me tonight.