When Good Backs Go Bad

I just returned from vacation where the only writing I did was a grocery list. So my Sunday blog this week is one from 2013 that you probably didn’t see. I’m just guessing. But if your memory is as bad as mine, you won’t remember reading it anyway so it’ll be like a whole new post to you. Just like I actually wrote one this week instead of eating, drinking and being merry on my vacation. Talk to ya next week!

Now Don't Get Me Wrong

My back when out a couple weeks ago. Where it went, I’m not sure. But it’s out and it isn’t in a big hurry to come back.I’ve been lifting more than usual lately and not the beneficial kind of lifting, like at the gym. No, I’m lifting gargantuan wired cages and cat traps for our nonprofit cat rescue, Marin Friends of Ferals. (Yes, it’s a shameless plug.)

The scene of the crime happened in my garage. While lifting my twelfth trap, I felt a searing pain shoot through my lower back and thought: Have I been stabbed?  Then I said (to nobody in particular, since I was alone), “Oh, that’s not good.

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