Spaz

Suddenly I'm old.

I woke up like Thursday last week feeling like I slept on my shoulder wrong. The pain went away after a while, but returned Friday night and has stuck around every night since. Barbie thinks it's arthritis. Suddenly. Out of nowhere.

Then Saturday morning I woke up completely stiff in my lower back. Pain. Like I could barely dress pain. I had four million things to do and I did them, but I was like Frankenstein all day and I looked like a jackass getting in and out of the car. I took Advil and stooped instead of bent and looked up the possible causes on WebMD and pretty much covered all the I-don't-go-to-the-doctor bases, and Sunday when I woke up it was actually better. It still hurt, but it was better.

Today was a completely different story. Spasms. My whole life I've never had back problems. Now suddenly it's spasming in the shower and in the car and while I set up the office this morning before my 7:30. Good Lord. I could barely feed the cats.

When that Sandi came in I asked her about it - she'd experienced a similar situation recently herself, and luckily I wasn't so self-absorbed that I remembered. She said to ice it - twenty minutes on, maybe thirty to forty off. I did. All day. I took more Advil. I took two Aleve at like 3pm. I've been icing. Still spasming.

I made it home, and here's the problem with being me: did you know that if you don't use the ice in the ice cube trays for a long while they eventually evaporate? I didn't. You know, until tonight, when I needed to make another ice pack. So now I know. At least I have bags of frozen vegetables that clearly aren't being eaten to use while the real ice freezes.

The good thing about being me, however, is that I am industrious. I couldn't stoop down low enough without seizing to get the kibble in the kitty bowls, let alone get the water dish, so I now have a step ladder in the kitchen next to the kitties' food station. I unfold it, I sit down on the step, I lean over for the dish, I stand up and fill it, I sit back down, I lean over and put the dish down. It took me ten minutes to feed the dang kitties.

This is a flipping nightmare to me because I think it's my bed and not the fact that this happens to people as they age. I'm not that old. Seriously, I'm not. Sandi claims the ice packs will help in a day or two, and I'm hoping so, but I've been icing and dosing all flipping day and it still hurts to sit here and type this (but I suffer for all seventeen of you). Plus I'm afraid to go to bed now. Because I'm still convinced it's my bed and nothing else. And I can't even fathom having to buy a new bed. I don't even know where to start, and I certainly don't want to spend the money on something so ridiculous.

But it's probably not my bed.

God damn it.

Swan song

Wednesday night, atop the third floor of El Asador on Avenida Yaxchilan, I proclaimed that I would never again visit Cancun. Was I on JagerBomb number three in that hour? Had I been drinking for the last ten hours and convinced everyone to skip dinner for a spontaneous trip to Centro? Were JagerBombs the least potent of anything I had had as a shot that day? Yes to everything. But it dawned on me even when I landed the Friday before and was being shuttled to Kim and Arturo's house that the odds of me coming back to vacation in Cancun were not good.

It's not that I don't like it anymore. I mean, who doesn't like the beach? But there's just something not there anymore that used to be and I really doubt that it will come back. Kind of a been-there-done-that sort of thing. Plus tourists irritate the crap out of me.

But what a great trip you guys all missed out on! Naked Steve and his wife Sue showed up as a grand surprise for Marita and Dave, Marta and I cohabitated somewhat reasonably well, I didn't spend TOO much money, didn't get hit by a car, only ended up with three bruises and one cut, taught Lumpy the meaning of "no", and got a fairly good tan. Our weather was perfect, we were ridiculously popular, and the staff dug the hell out of us. What more could you ask for?

Maybe that feeling to come back. The one that makes me want to turn the plane around and go back. That feeling of "I'm home". It's just not there anymore. And that's not a bad thing, it's just a "let's do something different next year" thing.

I'll try to get some pictures up but I just thought I'd let you know that I'm back and there isn't any need to ask me if I am moving there again. Because I'm not. Believe me.

Waiting for the bank to open while I think about how much I hate leaving my cats

So Marita described it best: homesick and I haven't even left yet. I'm off work since yesterday, and today there is much more to do - because I dread cleaning the bathrooms. Seriously, one of them is like two feet by two feet if you don't count the shower, but it's a dread I feel anyway. I think it's just a residual throw back from when my job as a kid was to clean the boys' bathroom. Who knows why I still cling to that, I mean it's not like anyone is peeing on the floor here.

I have to go to bed tonight at like 8, so I can get up at 2. Some might question why I would even go to bed to begin with. Becky. But it's not really an option, and I have to get up so early so that I can shower before Gay Neighbor Geoff drives me to the airport at 3:20. That's AM, folks. My flight leaves at 5:30am, and the ticket counter at US Air opens at 3:45. I am certainly not one to NOT abide by the "two hours before your departure" rule, but what can you do when even THEY can't meet that? So abide I will, at the expense of a fabulous neighbor who is also going to watch the kitlets. He doesn't really drink so I'm not sure what I will be bringing him back as a fabulous gift, but I'll think of something. I'm really lucky to have these friends, considering how surly I am.

So I'm meeting my fabulous friends Marita and Dave and their mini-posse, staying with that Marta, which will be fun for her, I'm sure, since I'm an awesome roommate (right, Liz?) and tomorrow night I get the added bonus of staying with that Kim, which is awesome in itself for obvious reasons, the least being that it reminds me of actually living there, but without all the unpleasant details, like wondering what that thing is moving under my shoes, power outages when it rains, not being able to find a taxi on Sunday, and watching America's Next Top Model on a 9 inch TV.

But oh how I hate leaving the tiny kitties. They're on to me right now, you know, even though the suitcase is still in the office. They get suspicious when I clean. I don't really blame them, it's not like it's a weekly event or anything.

Well, I'm pretty sure the BofA's call center is open now, so I'll get to work for the day. If I don't see you tomorrow morning, enjoy your week and think about how ridiculously tan I'll be getting as it progresses.