Dana Did a Dumb-Dumb

Ever been hit by the spring cleaning bug? Because I was, on Saturday, actually. Everything, and I mean everything, suddenly needed to be dusted, like, NOW. So here I am, running around with my spray bottles,paper towels, and a look in my eye that scares the children, cleaning like a deranged Cinderella who's late for the ball.

Now, to be honest, my kids do help when I need to clean the house. They have their methods, and I have mine.

We're working on that.

So all through the day, Dusty is reminding me to watch my spoons, and I'm telling him I'm fine, I'm good. I've got this. Yeah, I'm in pain, but that's normal, that's an every-day thing.

I was oh, so wrong.

I'm cleaning, and I'm making sure to take breaks here and there so I don't push myself. But I did things I know I'm not supposed to do, like the dishes (a lot of twisting and bending...it's bad for my back). I lifted things, and moved things, and hell, I even cooked dinner when we were all done. But I'd forgotten to listen to the warning signs that I'd used up too many spoons.

First, the heavy pain, where you can barely move, but you make yourself, because it will get better if you get up and move around rather than let your spine lock. We all know this, right? Everyone who has arthritis knows it's better to move through the pain.

If I had just stopped there, everything would have been fine. But, nope. My brain was stuck on MUST. CLEAN. My body was stuck on, OH. SHIT. And when those two collide, it's... well...

The second sign is my back going numb. I can't feel anything. That just encourages me to keep going, because hey! I'm not in pain anymore! Standing up and moving around really helped! So you think you're all good. Nothing's gonna break your stride, just like that song (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j3YrNSw5a2I), and you can take on the world.

I finished cleaning, cooked dinner, and realized that I was hurting again, but on a much larger scale. I lay down, certain I would be fine in the morning. See, I didn't realize I'd taken my spine and turned it into a pretzel. And since I'm not a cat, this is a bad thing.

Once I went to bed, the pretzel undid itself while I slept, causing all those lovely nerve endings to once again send signals of "What the fuck did she do this time?!?"  And being the good wife I am, when the dog whimpered at five in the morning to be let out, I tried to get up. After all, it was Dusty's birthday weekend, and I wanted him to sleep in for a change. So when I sat up, I wasn't prepared for the stars to be so pretty, or for my back to suddenly hit the mattress once more. I hadn't just thrown my back out. I'd hit it with a stick until all its candy fell out, danced the samba on it, twirled it overhead, twerked against it like a three year old drying their butt to music, and only threw it out once it looked like a frat boy after a three day bender.

So Dusty got up, I stayed in bed, and my back got even with me by keeping me there for two days.

But hey, my house is clean, right?