One of the many reasons that I love living in Los Angeles is because of the weather. It suits me. Most of the time I can wander around in a t-shirt and shorts quite comfortably. But every now and then the weather gods decide to punish me. Today was one of those days.
It is raining here in the City of Angels. Thanks to the extra precipitation my morning commute was extended a bit longer than normal and my entrance into my office building more closely resembled rhythmic gymnastics than my ever so exciting sashay.
That is a sad attempt at trying to cover up that I slipped on a wet floor and slid into the lobby. I didnâ€™t fall down as hard as I could have. No one will make any money off of a videotape of me sliding into home. For that matter it was relatively early and I am not sure that anyone noticed. Or if they did the selfish bastards didnâ€™t bother to ask if I was ok.
So I picked myself up and shook off the dust and wandered over to the elevator and waited for it to arrive. As I stood there I took stock of myself and decided that nothing seemed to be permanently damaged. No broken bones and no bruises that I could detect.
Still, when I got to my office I decided that as a precaution I would stretch and then apply one of those sticky heat pads to my lower back.
I wore that sucker for a good three hours and then decided that it was time to remove it. That is when I learned that I have quite a bit of hair on my lower back, or at least I did. If I wasnâ€™t awake before my self inflicted â€œwax jobâ€ woke me up.
And to be honest I have this sneaking suspicion that tomorrow I just might find that I am little bit sore. Sometimes aging is a lot less fun than it should be.