A weekend flat on my back

Minds out of the gutter, people!  I threw my back out a couple weeks ago during the strike of La Traviata.  Forgetting that I'm no longer a nubile, young thing but a fat, middle-aged theatre queen, I tried to move a set piece that probably required two fat, middle-aged theatre queens (or one fairly in-shape young person).  Alas, I thought I was recovering well enough until I spent a weekend on Juan and Val's click-couch futon and a night awkwardly twisted in my own bed. 

Too embarrassed to call out of work due to a bad back, I instead did what any honest working girl would do, lie.  Feigning illness, I spent the day reclined on my couch, wrapped in an ace back support, watching twelve hours of holiday-themed cooking shows - actually not a terrible way to spend a cold winter day.  Note to self, back braces only look good on hunky weight lifters, professional wrestlers and delivery men.  On regular schmucks like me, they only accentuate an already bulging muffin top. 

I did manage to make it to rehearsal (for the Very Merry Pineda Holiday Spectacular!) Sunday evening, but wasn't much help.  Thankfully, Chris was on hand to whip the Pineda-ettes into shape for their featured number while I remained sidelined at the keyboard in my back brace.  Coincidentally, Chris also had a senior moment earlier that day.  He lost his car at the Short Hills mall parking lot.  Yes, he actually forgot where he parked and spent a panicked 15 minutes roaming the huge lot in a cold sweat.  What a sad pair we make.   Was it really only 13 years ago that we hand-jived our way across the country playing teenagers?!  Now we're wearing back braces and losing our cars.  Sad, just sad.