I hurt my back. I have no idea how this happened. There was no “precipitating event” as they say; it just occurred.  One day I was fine, the next I was starting to get stiff, and by the next morning my lower back was having uncontrollable spasms  and I was in extraordinary pain. The doctor that I visited prescribed pain medication, muscle relaxers, and rest. I have been dutifully taking all three, and have noticed something. 

Since the move, I had started to think of myself as lazy. I didn’t feel like I did much of anything during the day. I don’t walk Daughter to school, I drive her. I don’t bake all day and I don’t volunteer in her school. Still, I did realize how much I am up and around doing the little chores of my house all day long. Sitting in one place has allowed me to see all of the cleaning and animal tending and bed making and picking up I do in a day because right now I’m just sitting here, looking at all of it. It is truly an amazing thing how disgustingly messy my house can get in just three days. But I digress…

Being forced to stop and be still has allowed me to notice some pretty simple and wonderful things that happen around here, and sometimes to ask questions because of them. Since the medications I am on make me too loopy to form many coherent thoughts in a row, I would like to list them here for you to enjoy and perhaps ponder. 

How do the dogs know the difference between when the garage door opens for Husband to come home and when it opens for Daughter to get her bike? One incites an insane amount of joy, the other not even a raised head. What do they think about all day, anyway? Dogs fascinate me.

Are cats rally able to just stay in one position and sleep comfortably aaaaallllll day?

The way the sunlight moves across my living room in one day often highlights the small pieces of beauty and tangible memories I have carefully placed around the room. It also highlights the dust. 

Plants are a lot like people; given the exact same conditions and care, they still can grow at very different rates and with varying degrees of success. 

Seriously, does my cat even move?

I have read a remarkably high percentage of the books on display in the cases of my home. I remember a remarkably low percentage of the details in those books. For the ones I really remember, I can tell you where I was, the people I was near, and sometimes what I was wearing when I read a pivotal piece of information. 

My house, even the “fancy” parts, still looks terrifically lived in. I like it.  

I think my cat is dead. 

I need more books. Three book cases in this room, the two downstairs, the one in the dining room, the one in the guest room, and Daughter’s are simply not enough. I need to have more information at my fingertips. 

There you have it, readers.  A very different sort of post for today. Hope you’re all feeling wonderful.