Late last week while I was at work, I twisted as I stood up from my desk and immediately felt a twinge. I said to my co-worker: I think I just pulled a muscle in my ass. I was only half-kidding. Yesterday, the dull ache bothered me all day. It was my day off and I did absolutely nothing. The furthest I walked was from my living room couch to my bathroom. Today, I rationalized and allowed myself to go get a massage. As I walked down the block to the salon/spa, I was hit with shooting pain across my lower back and down the side of my leg. And again. And again. When I got in the door and sat down to wait for the massage therapist, I realized that sitting wasn't much more comfortable than walking. And then I had an hour of bliss. I was even feeling semi-cured as I walked home. Well, that lasted all of about 20 minutes and now I'm in the land of the dull ache again. I'm really looking forward to putting ice on my ass, as the massage therapist suggested. Good thing I'm not being taped for a reality TV show.
So, yes, it's official. I'm old and I broke my butt. The only potential bright spot I can think of (and it's not so bright considering I'd be in pain for the next week) is that I won't be forced back into the crawlspace to look for mice when I go to my mom's this weekend (scroll down for that story if you haven't read it yet.)
So, Col, if my butt's still broken, the crawlspace job is ALL yours. Love ya, sis.
Post(erior) script: OK. Two people have pointed out to me that I didn't make it clear what kind of massage I was gettin'. There was no skin on skin butt massaging going on here. There was butt kneading going on, and there were three layers of blanket between massager and massagee. Jeez. You people have dirty minds.