For Whom the Bell Tolls

I threw my back out. That’s what I tell people, but the truth is that I didn’t “throw” anything. I just woke up two days ago and couldn’t straighten my back. It is sore and stiff like the 5th hour of Viagra.

It takes 10 minutes, four beers and three muscle relaxers to press my back almost flat against the bed. That’s the only time I’m even remotely comfortable, which is to say I’m pretty uncomfortable. My back is so tight I feel like my armpit is stitched to my ass.

I’m in a constant crunch. My core is fabulous.

The kitchen has become my bell tower, the couch my altar. In matters of Hugo I am more Victor than Boss. I stumble and I moan and I pray for sanctuary.

But there is no sanctuary, just reasons to walk and reasons to bend and two little boys, willing me not to break.

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