I don’t know what Wednesday was like with you, but here it was a bitterly cold day with stinging needles of rain. However, the grocery shopping still had to be done, and so I trudged around the supermarket with my trolley, stocked up, drove home. Then, you know how it goes, I was running backwards and forwards between the boot of the car and the back door, unloading bags, my shoulders hunched up around my ears, cold and tired and not concentrating. When I noticed one bag had split down the side in the boot of the car. So I picked it up with a good heave, swung around hoping the force would keep the contents away from the split and…. wrenched a muscle in my lower back.
Why is there never a prince on horseback in sight when you need one? I had to get the rest of the shopping in, and the cold goods away in the fridge, all in what can properly be described as mortal agony. This story would be an awful lot better to tell if it had some romantic interest in it, or concerned my undercover work against the forces of evil, but alas, it is irredeemably mundane. But the moral of the story is that it is unnecessarily painful to pull muscles in your lower back and I do not recommend you try it, not least because it puts both romance and undercover operations against evil wholly out of the question for several days. I am feeling better now, just a bit thick-headed from sleeping poorly, and I hope to be fighting fit again for the Slaves discussion on the 31st of Stevie Smith’s Novel on Yellow Paper, which has been a surprisingly good companion over the past few days. But I should think it will elicit some mixed responses, so lots to look forward to there. In the meantime, blogging friends, wrap up warm, and if you cannot twist your beloved’s arm into doing the chores for you, never forget to bend from the knees….