Ow. And drat.

In an unfortunate confluence of events, I have (a) wrenched the muscles in my lower back, and (b) gotten a flat tire on my car. Fortunately, the car is parked right out in front of my house, and in the normal course of events I'd just jack 'er up, whip on the spare, and take care of business, glorying in the opportunity to be all rugged and macho and self-reliant. But I really think that even hauling the spare out of the trunk, let alone the jacking and changing, would do very unfortunate things to the already effed-up lumbar regions.

The guy at the local garage, four blocks away, seems massively uninterested in this opportunity to fleece me of my money. There might be a guy coming in who could come over and deal with it ... maybe in an hour or so, dunno ...

I am so, so tempted to just go out and give it a try with the jack, but really, the last thing I need is to be totally laid up for a week or so. God damn it. I *hate hate hate* being dependent and middle-aged-ladyish. ::snarling, gulping ibuprofen::