Sit Still, Wouldya? [An audio/video Interactive Blog]

What do you do when you don't want to do anything but you want to do something? It's not really that I didn't WANT to do something, but my back had been in spasms for two days, so I just didn't feel good enough to do anything and knew that I shouldn't do anything, so as not to worsen my pain. But even when I don't want to do anything...I still have to do something. I'm not one to sit around even if I have nothing planned. I always find things to do around the house and if I don't...I concoct. But most of them require physical movement. There are not too many things you can do that allow you to just sit still...except reading, watching TV or sitting at the computer. But there is just so much of that you can do in a weekend. Believe me…I do my best to compete for the world’s record for most hours logged in on the computer and TV, but I do get to a point where my eyes are unfocusable (I made that word up) and I have to find other things. 

My weekend started out pain free (or what I call pain free in my world since I’m never pain free.)So bright and early Saturday morning, I started doing chores. Laundry that hadn't been done for a couple of weeks had piled up so it was time for a little fluff and fold. Once my sheets were out of the dryer, I started making my bed...and...BOING!

Spasms galore. I could not straighten up. So with my spine at a 45 degree angle, I finished putting the sheets on, [because being the slightly obsessive neat freak that I am, I couldn’t leave my bed half made just because of some excruciating back spasms], then proceeded downstairs to ice my back. Try finding a comfortable position when every which way you move causes spasms. I tried every couch and chair in the house that I could find, and after about an hour of struggling to get up and down testing each one, I was exhausted. I finally decided on one, sat down, futzed around trying to find that perfect position, strategically placed pillows around me, placed the ice pack on my lower back…and… Ding Dong. Are you f**king kidding me? The doorbell rang.

If I wasn’t expecting a delivery I would have ignored it but I couldn’t. It only took me about 4 minutes to rock myself up out of the chair like an 80 year old and walk to the door. 

Luckily I had a very patient FedEx person.

   

After about 4 hours of icing on and off, I was going nuts just sitting around once the spasms had subsided. The rest of my day consisted of various things I probably shouldn't have been doing. And of course I did things that required major physical twisting, which I never do on a daily or weekly basis. I pride myself on not being the brightest when it comes to physical limitations. I just go for it if it involves exercise or physical output, and I'm damn proud of it.

I'm not a sweeper. I'm not a fan of brooms. But there were leaves on the patio that were pissing me off because I had to traipse over them every day. Since I was having back problems, what better to do but sweep? I don't like dirty patios. I don't like dirty anything. So naturally, cleaning couldn't come at a more opportune time; when I should be doing nothing but resting my back. I made sure that I didn't sweep the entire patio though, so that my back didn't get too weary. 

When I got inside, I noticed sand on the floor because my kids had been at the beach. Couldn't let that stay there, and since the broom was already in hand, I swept up the floor. I only did downstairs, though, so that my back didn't get too weary. Following the pattern here? But as I was walking up the stairs to get something, a few little dust bunnies popped out at me. Well…there’s no way that is going to be overlooked. So what’s the smartest thing to do? Get out the vacuum, of course. But I made sure I just used the portable one. Ya know…the one whose hose is so short you have to bend over and stay that way the whole time you’re vacuuming? Another ingenious idea by moi.

As I remained stuck in the prone position for the next 20 minutes, my dog came to visit me from underneath. Good thing she is small so that she could get below me. She didn’t really understand why my hands weren’t rubbing her tummy but rather perched against the wall holding up my body. As I climbed my hands up the wall slowly straightening my back, she decided it was a good time for humping. Never miss an opportunity to hump a leg. (watch this til the end).

I finally semi-straightened up but before I did, I noticed the moldings and the walls had some marks on them that just didn’t belong there. How bad could it be for my back to do a little eraser sponging along the walls? But not only did I notice the marks on the wall, but I noticed my dog could use a little trim on her bangs. What better to do then bend down again and pick up my 20 pound dog for a little hair styling? I know 20 pounds doesn’t sound like a lot, but in doggie pounds…that’s like 140.

Eventually, I smartened up and realized I was being way over zealous and thought a shower would be the last output of energy on my unplanned agenda. I was in desperate need from all the activity I wasn't supposed to be doing that day. Too bad I'm not a bath lover because as I stepped into the shower, I didn't notice the bar of soap laying on the bottom, and as I stepped in....

How was YOUR day?

Are You Who You Say You Are?

Have you ever noticed how people in certain professions are so inept at their own when it comes to taking care of themselves?  Like when you walk into a hair salon and not one hairdresser has well coiffed hair. We sit down in their chair...look up at them with puppy dog eyes begging them to make us beautiful, but secretly thinking “Please make me look nothing like you.” You then look over and see some of their co-workers with one side of their head shaved and the rest of their head donning various lengths and styles of hair. Like they couldn't decide what exactly they wanted to do at the time. Yet we are putting our trust in them to take scissors to our locks and style our hair...seriously? Are we nuts?

Then there are others with multiple colors of hair. What are they thinking? Very natural looking. I'd prefer not to look like I have multi-flavored cotton candy on my head. Maybe I'm just old fashioned and like to look a little more normal. I don’t mind blonde or red highlights, but a striped rainbow zebra head is a little more out there than I can handle. And some of those haircuts....yikes! Who comes up with those designs...people on acid? And what’s with foreign objects being weaved in? I would love to know who came up with the feather thing. Must’ve been an ornithologist, dontcha think?

But it's not even the outrageous colors or the ridiculous looking cuts...it's those with the greasy hair that looks like it hasn’t been washed in days. Or brushed........ever. Like they just woke up, got out of bed, and went to work with a matted down helmet head. Who knows what could be crawling around in there? And you're gonna shampoo MY head? [Can you please scrub your hands and clean under your nails before you begin? Better yet…wear gloves.] But once that head massage starts....all is forgotten. I'm in heaven....ahhhhh.

What about your manicurist? Have you ever had one with nails you would want on your own hands? When I used to get my nails done (you know...before my kids decided to suck my bank account dry and siphon every last drop out of it), I noticed my nail lady had the worst nails ever.  Her cuticles needed trimming, her nails needed filing, the polish was chipped, they weren’t the cleanest…yet I allowed her to use a cuticle scissors on my very precious fingers. I just don't get that practice of taking care of others but not yourself? At least do it as PR for your own methods. Your own body should represent, in a positive light, the body part you are servicing on others. There are some with nails so long and fake looking you’d think they were used in a Miracle Blade infomercial. I’m not quite sure how they function in everyday life with those weapons, except for being able to scratch someone’s back from 10 feet away. How do they tend to their feminine needs without gouging themselves? Geesh and ewww.

Do you know any shrink that doesn’t go to a therapist for their own neuroses? And they even bring it up in YOUR session about what they discussed in theirs. Seriously? I feel so much more secure now putting my mental health into your neurotic hands. I'm not sure if it's mandatory but every single psychologist I know...and I know a lot (not from personal experience, in case you’re wondering...although I do have some) but I have a lot of friends and family who are shrinks and they all have their own shrinks.  Doesn't that make you question their ability in problem solving and analytical thinking? So we are putting our mental health into the hands of someone who can't resolve their own mental health? Hmmmmm. Something to ponder.

I've noticed something quite interesting with some of the nurses I've known, which totally baffles me to this day. They are in a profession that stresses and demands health and sanitization. I've seen them at work and how obsessive they can be with cleanliness. But when I went to their homes, I wanted to puke. Oh my god! I had never seen such filth in my entire life. And clutter? It was just short of hoarding. I don't get it. How can you go from a totally sterilized environment to an almost uninhabitable home, knowing the health hazards? We are talking papers piled up three feet high on counters, floors, desks, tables, wherever; kitchen tables with layers of sticky goop and god only knows what else; bathrooms covered in…actually, I don’t even want to know. Tell me something...how do you not notice crumbs all over your floor as you're walking when little pieces are getting stuck between your toes, your feet are sticking to the ground and there’s crunching beneath the soles of your shoes? When your hand sticks to the table, do you not notice there may be some foreign substance you may have eaten 3 weeks ago still adhering to the surface? I’m not exaggerating…I had witnessed this first hand, and only one time because I never went back to any of their homes. I could vomit. I can only imagine what’s between the sheets and in the mattresses. No…I take that back. I can’t imagine.

And what about out of shape trainers? How can someone who is overweight and lacking in muscle tone profess to be an expert in health and physical training? Isn’t that an oxymoron? Yet, there are people who decide this is the person they want whipping them into shape. Really? What shape was it that you wanted to be whipped into? Pillsbury dough boy? Michelin tire man? And you’re paying this oxy-moron to help you get there?

So why do we trust these people? Because they are located inside the establishments that promote the service we came for? Of course…but it makes no sense. If you saw a doctor with scars all over his face…would you trust him as your plastic surgeon? Think about it. Not that a haircut or a manicure is life threatening…but let me tell you…one bad haircut can cause months of stress and agony. And then you would have to see one of those shrinks who needs his own shrink to get through a day in his life. And you would eat to suppress your unhappiness so you would have to go see one of those overweight trainers who can’t train himself. And then you would get your nails done because if your hair can’t look good right then, and your body isn’t in shape, at least your nails can be, so you would go see one of those butcher manicurists who doesn’t take the time to trim her own nails. And there you have it and that’s why these people are in business. They are all in cahoots with one another. The circle of life.

***All professionals represented in this blog are fictitious. Any resemblance to a person I may know is purely coincidental***