Ouch!

So, for about a week I've been hobbling around like a little old lady because I totally threw my back out last week during the brutal fight to get my cats in their carriers prior to the Cricket Massacre. I kept telling myself that it would get better on its own. I've hurt my back several times over the years (its genetic - my dad has back issues, too) and its ALWAYS gotten better on its own after a few days. Well, not this time. It just wasn't getting any better and I was looking more and more pathetic. That's when it hit me: Oh my God, I'm getting old! My muscles and bones aren't springing back like they used to, I need actual medical help to get better!

NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

Yep, its true. So, I sucked it up and went to the doctor for the first time in 2 years and got some serious pain killers and muscle relaxants. I took my first dose this morning, and let me tell you I was completely loopy for the rest of the day! I think my interns thought I'd lost it. We were doing some object handling in the storage room for a while, and I kept referring to this 200 year old teacup as a plate. Then I asked one of them 4 times in the course of about 10 minutes where I had put my notebook, and it was sitting on the desk in front of me. Once the drugs wore off, I decided against a second dose. Clearly, I'm not ready for narcotic painkillers.

Anyway, the point of this ramble (which might have been affected by some residual drugs) is that my 30's are looming on the horizon, and I'm not so sure I like it!