"Back" to Basics

I'm a fan of dance parties. Let me clarify: I'm a fan of Mormon, cheesy, somewhat awkward, all-out dances which consist of a careful mixture of line-dancing, slow-dancing to 90's music, and clean cut kids getting dirrrrrty with rap music (and Justin Bieber). I love all elements of this type of dance with a love that cannot be described, which likely goes back to my 14 year old days when I was a clueless girl with braces. I LOVE THEM.

YEAHHHHHHHH

So imagine my utter delight when I heard that my ward was throwing a barn dance tonight! These dances don't happen so often when you are not a) in the youth program anymore or b) a freshman in college when there is a freshman dance every other week! This has been one of the big highlights of my life over the last week. Never mind what this says about my social calendar of late... I was PUMPED. Every boring lecture I sat through, I thought of the sweet dance moves I was going to pull out with all my friends when the Cascada songs came on. I envisioned the sweaty hand grasps I would have with endearingly awkward boys in my ward. I dreamt of the flash of the DJ's disco ball, as enchanting as it was when I walked into my first dance as a wee lass of fourteen.

Today was busy with homework and to-do lists and packing because, oh yeah, last minute decision to drive home for Thanksgiving with my sister tomorrow morning! Woo! Double pumped. Haven't been home since August. I bustled about today (does that sound elderly?), figuring whatever I didn't finish I could do in the early morning hours after getting back from dancing like CARAZZZY (and by this I mean doing the sprinkler. which IS carazzy mind you.)

I was getting ready to make myself all hot. My straightener was plugged in. I was gonna put on a cool dancing outfit and some body glitter (oh wait, that was only when I was 14, jk), but first, I had to pull a cobbler out of the oven. (does that make me sound elderly too? shoot.)

I bent down to pull the cobbler out of the oven, and a culmination of all the forces of evil in this entire world descended upon my lower back. (don't call me a drama queen.) Yep. COMPLETELY pulled a muscle my back for the first time in my life.

So I hobbled to my bed, gasping in pain, figuring I'd just stretch it out a bit and be on my merry, Cotton-Eye-Joe lovin' way. I called my mom and asked her what I could do to be better in 10 minutes. Then I told some friends I'd most definitely be at the dance a little later. Haha. Ha. Hahahahaha. Ha. He. he.

Three and a half hours later, and I can barely lift my arms to text, I'm smeared in Bengay, and it smells like a candy cane factory exploded up in here, I haven't eaten dinner because I can't really walk to the kitchen, and when I try to move, crazy spasms start happening in my back.

This is the look I get when there is a line-dance going on
somewhere and I'm not participating.

Mostly I am upset about missing out on the dance, because I have WICKED sweet dance moves, I swear to you. The world is missing OUT tonight. DANGIT.

But I am also glad this happened (no I'm not but lets go with it) because it has taught me to appreciate the little things in life, like being able to go to the bathroom, sitting up in bed instead of laying like a maimed person without a will to live, and the gift of walking.

Perhaps it's a blessing in disguise that, instead of a night of thumping bass from JBieb's hit "Baby" and then frenzied packing, I get this time of (complete and utter) solitude to contemplate, relax, and think (about how upset I will be if my back is like this tomorrow when I was planning to drive home).

I think I am now going to watch shows no one has heard of on Netflix and then write angsty Haikus.

If you are reading this, please do a crazy dance move right now... do it for me. Especially if you are reading this in a highly public place. Surrounded by people who will likely judge you. It will make me feel better.