Roller coaster Sunday was a bad idea in hindsight. Yesterday, my body moved like a car wreck victim. Today, I’m unable to walk.

I live in a two-story condo. I work and sleep upstairs, but I eat, poop, and watch television downstairs. My death-shrieks while getting out of bed forced my wife to stay home and my cat to freak out. If snakes could smile, Piggert wouldn’t be able to hide it. I’m truly hurt.

This is a reoccurring issue I’ve dealt with since my late 20’s. My father has suffered from back issues his entire life, while my son developed them in the military; causing him to exit prematurely on life-long disability.

I managed to make it downstairs on my hands and knees and into a rolling computer chair. With the help of the best wife ever, I had coffee and participated in tree communion. Then, the rest of my morning routine started to kick in.

I said to my wife, “Okay, I’m going to the bathroom now. No matter what you think, no matter what you hear, and no matter how much I scream, do NOT come help me. Do you understand?”

There are just some things a marriage shouldn’t have to endure; infidelity and pooping are two of them. I’d rank them as equals, actually. Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon.

Send positive light. I’m attending a huge snake show on Saturday if I’m walking again.