Many, many years have come and gone with many, many trips to the Emergency Room. The uncanny ability I have to injure and render parts of my body unusable has not waned in my grown-up years. And so the tradition continues as I made the regrettable decision to wash both of my dogs on the 4th of July.
I had the distinct warning sign that this was a bad idea as I finished with Hannah and the unbending of my back resembled the opening of an rusty lawn chair from my grandma's shed. But my mind, the traitor it is, told me "No! Ignore that, Carrie! That feeling is the goodness of summer!"
By the time I finished washing Indie I looked like Gollum from Lord of the Rings. My back a twisted, bent, lurching cousin of its' former self. Now I sit bedridden, unable to retrieve my hair tie, thinking about the ring around the tub I can't clean, and wishing the sweater I had begun to take off to offset the air-conditioning I couldn't reach wasn't now stuck at an awkward mid-way point.
My appreciation for bending has grown over the past two days, as has mobile communication. When I need to put on pair of socks, I can text Bryan in the living room. To which after several more texts and a phone call, he comes promptly blundering in the room saying "I'm awake! I'm awake!" Then mumbles with confusion when I am not bleeding.
Nonetheless, he is a Godsend. He helped me get up when I needed to, sympathetically furrowed his brow when I cried, brought me Advil and put socks on my feet. All the while I was awkward to move around, frustratingly weepy, and a bit melodramatic. And now, after all that, Bryan has two clean dogs and a wife unable to bathe herself.
Love makes you do crazy things, that's how the saying goes.
But in this house, love makes you do things for the crazy.
Sorry to hear about your back troubles, but at least you're able to put a humorous spin on things :) Oh, and that husband of yours... yeah he's pretty much a stud.
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