Abaculus

Yikes, my back is killing me. I mean screaming at me, being a complete pain in the arse, and stopping me from doing any useful. When I got up just now, I couldn't pull myself into the standing position without help. Otherwise I would have just tried walking around like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. (Which I am doing anyway, but looking more like Hunchback, as opposed to failing).

I tried to move some boxes from the garage this afternoon, overloaded with books. They've been sitting there since last year, and there was about 10 of them in all, those plastic boxes stuffed. I did the minimum effort required of me, knowing I'd be in trouble later. Trouble came anyway.

My back has played up since 1993, after sustaining a parachuting injury. Parachuting: a nice view, something you can boast about; but believe me, it had a heavy price to pay. My parachuting adventure was certainly not worth it, for the agony I've put up with on and off since. Tip: do not parachute if you have balance problems. You will simply land straight on your back, and the canopy holder will just ensure that your back gets twisted. Usual landing techniques simply go out of the window. Believe me, back injury is a massive price to pay. Alison does not recommend.

Speaking of books, I don't know what to do with them. They rule my life. Now every book shelf is crammed, and those are not all of them. Most of my law books got lent out, and there used to be millions of those. I even have shelves in my parent's loft, especially for books. Now dad threatens to build me shelves in the boiler house (outdoor house, containing a boiler, for the next person who asks me what it is). Truth be known, I cannot part with books. I cannot walk into a bookshop and come out empty handed.

I cannot keep up with reading them either, there are too many unread. My current pace of reading is down to snail speed, on the basis my concentration leaves a lot to be desired.

At the bottom of one of those boxes though, buried deep, was hidden treasure. I found 5 bottles of wine and a bottle of champagne, that I'd completely forgotten about. Some left over from Napa and Paris. Woohoo. I wonder how much longer they will last?

Now I'm off to scream in agony, and I still have some where to find to put my books. (Current home til I am capable of moving: sprawled over the living room floor).