Behind the Ironic Column

Strike two for Indolence over Industry.   Even after Monday’s misadventure, I woke up Tuesday thinking I really should get some of those chores crossed off the list.  Some of them couldn’t be done because I needed the full use of all ten fingers, but there were others that could at least be started.  Clearly I didn’t see Monday’s events as a warning to avoid productivity at all costs.

I’m in the process of deconstructing a large chunk of my life – aka a pile of possessions that should go on to better homes.  The reasons behind that process are a separate set of stories, but the part that’s relevant here is  that many of the possessions are books and records (the real vinyl ones, not cd’s).  All very  heavy when stashed into boxes.

So I’m very careful not to put too many things in a box, regardless of what the moving van people say they can hold.  I’m not worried about the box breaking down but about my back and shoulders.  I’ve been sorting these books into categories and taking action on them a few boxes at a time so it’s a slow process.

Yesterday, with the swelling in my hand reduced to manageable proportions, I went out to the storage room and sorted out three boxes of books and papers to bring back downtown and then eliminate in my multi-step process.   I successfully avoided the downpours and was able to get the car very close to the storage unit door, so things were going pretty well.   Lifting the boxes is always tricky but even that went well as I stashed them in the back of my trusty old Honda.  But then I wanted to put some additional items in there, which led to my trying to rearrange the boxes by sliding them around.  That should have worked and I’ve done it a million times before, but this time turned out to be different. 

As I pushed one box, trying to turn it 90 degrees so the next box would slide further into the car, there was a “popping” sensation in my right calf and it felt as if I’d been kicked by a two-year-old.  Of course I stopped what I was doing – and cautiously moved my leg to see if it still worked.  Since I was leaning against the car anyway, I couldn’t fall down. Except for the pain, it seemed solid enough.  Not being an athlete in any sense of the word, I don’t have much experience with muscle sprains and pulls (only with spasms which are a different category) but I was relatively sure this couldn’t be a good thing.  I could walk –limping only slightly —although it wasn’t pleasant.  Deciding that my sorting adventures were over for the day, I headed back home.  Driving wasn’t exactly comfortable, but no new damage seemed to be happening. 

After reading up on various muscle problems on the internet, I found that the “popping” sensation (which is exactly how they describe it) is the result of muscle fibers tearing.  And that this injury mostly happens to runners and sometimes to people who step in holes or otherwise twist their leg in an unfortunate way.  And that it takes weeks to heal itself – depending on the severity of the damage.  Self-diagnosing my injury  as minor damage, I took a hot shower and some ibuprofen and went to lie down on the couch.  They did say that rest and elevation are good therapies for calf muscle strains. 

So if you’re looking for me this Thanksgiving, I will be lying on the couch, reading a good book, and not doing any single thing that could be regarded as a chore or something I “ought” to do.   I don’t need a third illustration that Indolence is its own reward.

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