Sooooooooooooo ... I'm sitting here on my sofa right now, Antiques Roadshow on the old "boob tube," The Cat curled up beside me, and a heating pad on my back.
A heating pad? WHAAAAT?
Yeah. Christmas Day, I threw my back out doing a deadly combo of things. Seriously. It was a scary "perfect storm" of things that met in a vortex of pain to create my thrown out back.
The deadly combo?
I reached and bent at the same time.
I know. It's pitiful how quickly things begin to fall apart when one hits their 40s. It is a FOR REALSIES struggle, y'all.
Of course, this afternoon, while attempting to put away all the classroom Christmas decorations I'd had the forethought to pile in a giant hodge podge of a mess on some student desks the last day of school after I'd sent my kiddos all on to their families, I reached to grab a slightly heavy tub of "stuff" (that's an academic term, in case you weren't aware), I felt my back give a little. Not all the way, mind you. Just a little.
That little was just enough to give a bit more this evening while I was trying to do something benign like opening the dishwasher door.
So, I am sitting here attempting to get some work ticked off my TO DO list, and I've got The Cat curled up beside me (a position she's felt she's not been able to maintain the last two weeks due to the furry house guests that no one asked her if she would like to have ... according to her) and a heating pad on my back, doing my level best to burn the first couple of layers of my back skin right off.
The house is quiet ... save for Antiques Roadshow on PBS right now. Listen, don't hate. I am expanding my horizons. And I'm 42. There's that.
But the house is quiet. It's been filled with the noises of people chatting and animals playing and laughter and snoring (lots and lots of snoring) and just the buzz of humanity that come together during the holidays. It's a good kind of noise.
Now, there is noise of a single girl and her cat, who is snoring (lots and lots of snoring), the humming furnace, churning washing machine, spinning dryer, and the cacophony of the TV sound -- and these are good noises as well.
It's hard, sometimes, to transition from the energy of a vacation (or lack thereof) and the energy of the normal, every day life. Routine can be, well, routine.
I function better under a routine ... a schedule ... an understanding of what I will be doing next and then after that and then next ... I function better under structure. While I hate to see vacation end and family head home and the holidays become just a memory, I am ready for a routine, a schedule, a structure.
It's time ...