Perhaps I should have specified. I didn’t really want to feel unwell in order to have some downtime.
I simply wanted some time to myself to relax and reflect. To regroup my thoughts and spend some uninterrupted time working on some rewrites for my novel, without the hassle of having to get out of bed or to cook or clean or shuffle kids here or there. Not in the least, to skip having to go to that pesky, time-encroaching day job.
It was a fleeting fantasy and I quickly realized that everything I’d neglected would probably be there waiting in a big, looming pile upon my return to the real world anyway. <sigh>
So, guess where I’m posting this from? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
Just take a wild guess.
You’ll never guess.
Bed! That’s where! Laid up. Down for the count. And not even with anything remotely useful, like a sore throat or the sniffles, where I could at least be indulging in a guilt free chocolate milkshake or some sodium-laden chicken noodle soup.
Nope. I threw my back out. And not even by doing anything remotely exciting or strenuous, like mountain climbing or hang gliding. I was bending over to check my daughter’s backpack before school.
I bent. I stood up, empty handed. And then WHAM! It felt like I’d been kidney punched. I nearly passed out from the intense, sudden pain and had to grab hold of the table to remain relatively upright. And once I finally stopped wailing, my 8 year old asked (from the safety of her bedroom) if I’d been shot or stabbed and then begged me not to die. Apparently, she either has a very active imagination or we live in a more dangerous neighborhood than I ever realized because I was alone in the middle of our kitchen when said injury occurred.
I was a trooper though. I delivered all the kids to their destinations and arrived at the day job, on time I might add. Once I finally could call it a day, I headed home to the comforts of my bed where my husband has offered a massage and to make dinner. I should be doing some rewrites but that might be ill-advised on account of my creativity being jacked up by the muscle relaxers and pain relievers. I’m afraid that might result in only more needed editing.
So, next time, when my brain starts devising ways for my body to catch a break, I’ll try to be more specific in my fantasies.