Another Play-Ouch

One of the quirkier parts of my job is how compartmentalized little things can be. This is often around physical stuff. So moving something is a huge pain because the people who are supposed to do this in a normal place often cannot. Whether it is personality, contract, or health there is always some wonky element. So, I end up doing a lot of it. Like a week ago where I scrubbed cemented poop off stall walls in an outfit I would wear to a job interview. Stuff gets done but at some point the kindness of strangers will run out and I will be crushed under a pile of library books no one longer wants. Anyway

Me: We got these new couches. Can anyone come help me

Fav Teacher: I can!

Me: Thanks!

Also me, internally: Don't look like an idiot! Good thing you took your asthma meds today. 

***At the couch. She grabs her end and so do I. Then we lift***

My back: Hey remember that time you hurt me putting on your pants? Or the time putting the baby in her crib and your Mom had to come help you limp out of the nursery and give you one of those purse Vicodins she has at the bottom of it?

Me, internally: Be quiet, back! I am trying to not fuck this up.

My back: Well here I go. KA PWING!"

Me: ooh...blerg...ahhh...eee

FT: You ok?

Me: Oh yeah. Im good. Im good!

Also me, internally: Stupid body. Getting old is hell

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Note this little story ended happily as we delivered the couch and I only need to pivot fully from the hip to pick something up right now. Which is better than not being able to at all.