I threw my back out again, but it’s no cause for alarm. This time I’m just bored.
This happens periodically – my back gets stiff and sore and it gets worse and worse until finally I am rendered fairly useless, at least physically. I’m not quite sure what brought it on this time, maybe a combination of lack of exercise, and infrequent attention to stretching in the morning, which I must do daily to keep my muscles in working order – then suddenly I planted a garden! We also had rain this weekend, which was probably just a coincidence, but I found myself wondering if I’ve become like an old arthritic sailor who can predict the weather in his bones.
Either way, I rested most of Sunday and then since I was just sitting here, I watched the Oscars. The entire show. I muted the program during the musical numbers – I’m over U2, and I couldn’t handle Adele Dazeem’s screechy version of “Let It Go,” which, it is interesting to note, I had not actually ever heard even in its original manifestation. I also muted or paused some of the acceptance speeches, and I toggled back and forth among Twitter, Facebook, and the analog (paper) version of Elizabeth Gilbert’s The Signature of All Things during the three hour broadcast. What can I say? When one has not seen even one of the nominated films, one gets bored by the Oscars. And even the online snark didn’t do it for me this year. I just thought it was too mean. As we get older, do we lose our prickly edges? It might seem so.
This morning I felt a bit better – an entire day of laying around doing nothing was good for me in more ways than one – but after making lunch for the boys and sending them off to school the pain was just as bad as ever, so here I am back in bed again. I had been dreading my every-other-Monday volunteer hour in Brady’s class, not just because I’m over volunteering in the class, but because it involves so much bending over and just the thought of it makes me wince in pain. Miraculously, I got an email informing me that the kids’ schedule was different today because of Dr. Seuss’ birthday. So, thanks to him, my calendar is clear.
Yet I am not excited about the idea of just sitting here watching TV, reading, and mindlessly checking in on social media all day, so I made a list of tasks I can complete from the relative comfort of my resting position. Phone calls, paying bills, my writing gigs, my social media gig, all of these have items I can handle here because I have a laptop. With the children gone for the day, I can even keep my attention on the task at hand.
Writing about it all here, first, by way of procrastination, feels the way my blogging felt long ago, when I checked in almost daily to record the mundane details of my life. Whether or not anyone ever read them, it gave me comfort to mark the day, to record that this or that happened, to keep track of time passing.
Whatever else this blog has given me, there is always this record. It is almost ten years old, and over the last few years, as other bloggers I’ve known for all this time have shut down their sites or changed them dramatically, I wondered whether I should, too, but that never felt quite right. Another of those venerable original bloggers announced her shift today, and I can’t say I’m surprised – I know that she is talented in several media, and that she has been working more on her film making lately – but I will say that it makes me sort of sad. I know my blog is not known to many, but the one by one departure of my respected long time peers from this pastime makes me feel like a lone dinosaur, pawing at the dried up edges of the muddy pond, wishing we didn’t have to evolve or go extinct.
Or maybe that’s just the Vicodin talking. I know so many bloggers from the old days who still hang around refreshing their content and continuing to share their stories to my great delight and possibly their own. But Liz is right in reflecting that so much has changed. Maybe the wider public’s view of blogging is completely different from how I see it, though, which is as it was in the beginning: this site is still a place for me to tell whatever story I want to tell, even if it’s just the boring details of my day spent in bed. Maybe nobody will read it. Maybe somebody will stumble upon it when her back goes out, and she’ll feel better, not the only lump of flesh in the world who cannot function or get anything done today.
Either way, here I am, giving my body the time (and so lucky to be able to do so!) to heal before I leap out of bed to do all the exciting things I was planning: laundry! a trip to the bank! grocery shopping! I mean, what is life without all that adventure?