Nut magnet

When my cell phone rang, I was standing in the hair product aisle at Walgreens. My cell doesn't ring all that often, so out of curiosity, I answered it.

Big mistake.

Porsche Guy wanted to know if I wanted to meet him for dinner. Instinct told me to lie and tell him that I already ate. He downshifted into an invitation for a drink. Stalling, I told him I was in the middle of something and could he call me back in an hour or so?

Why didn't I just tell him to drop dead?

When we originally exchanged business cards at Wrigley Field, it occurred to both of us (to my initial horror) that we live in adjacent buildings! Okay, maybe my misgivings at his proximity should've prompted me to end things then and there. This nut job lives next door to me?!?! Why I let this flirtation continue, I'll never know.

In the time between his first and second calls, I formulated the wording for a polite, but definite "not interested" talk.

And then I chickened out.

The cell phone rang and I just stared at it from the sofa without moving. Maybe he'll get the hint.

Fast forward to this morning at 8:30. I'm finishing up my session with my physical terrorist, oops, therapist. My cell brriiings to tell me I have a text message.

"Does anyone want to play hooky? It's a nice day."

The nice guys fall off the face of the earth after one date. The crazies call me all the time!

I think Boston Cremes are out too

It always seemed weird to me when someone young (read: under 60) said they have a "bad back" or "bad knees" or some other "bad" body part. I kept picturing some black-and-white movie where the affliction is attributed to an old war wound.

Apparently, I now fall into the category of those with a bad back.

I must've slept through the anatomy part of my health class, because I was pretty sure I had messed up my right leg when it started to feel funky during my weekly volleyball game. Not a pulled muscle exactly, but more of a weird tightness and tingling.

After a week or resting my leg on the back of my sofa while watching TV (that's the best I can do for rehab since I've never so much as sprained anything before), it wasn't any better so I decided to ring my doctor.

My own personal diagnosis was that it was a circulatory issue since "the leg" (yes, I was referring to my body part as if it were someone else's) felt better while standing and worse after sitting for a while. Also, I have low blood pressure and occasionally suffer migraines with my poor circulation.

Uh, yeah, but no. It's a back thing. There's a very good reason why there are no letters after my name. I don't know what the hell I'm talking about in medical circles.

My doctor prescribed some physical therapy (and no volleyball or high heels, for that matter - - so I didn't even ask about volleyball in high heels), so that was my next stop.

Here's the layman's version of what's going on: a disc seems to have slipped from between my vertebre in my lower back, causing a disruption of the nerve signal to my right leg. The Food Network explanation would be: the jelly is coming out of the doughnut and we need to squish it back in.

eeewww!