Laughter isn't the best medicine

As I previous reported I found muscles I had forgotten I had. I was just sore the first day. So, it seemed like a good idea to try it again. What was I thinking? I wasn't. I was laughing and having fun doing the twist and the hula hoop. I'm not laughing now. My back is screaming at me. It is in spasms. This made work even more fun. Climbing up and down ladders and even walking were chores. So, my brain finally re-engaged and I decided I should take it easy for a few days. I canceled with my workout partner and stayed home last night. Then comes suppertime. I didn't feel like cooking. I didn't have my car. There is a little restaurant only a 1/2 mile from the house. My stomach took over the thinking and convinced my brain that this was a good idea. My brain didn't even offer the suggestion to send Chowhound up there for take out. No, "Let's walk up there for dinner" stupidly comes out of my mouth. Chowhound always ready for a meal, hence the name, jumped at the opportunity. About halfway there, my back spasms. I yelp, grab my back and hunch over. Chowhound is sympathetic the first time and only the first time. After this happens several times. He starts in like a lamaze coach. Breathe, Breathe. Hands gesturing and he is demonstrating the breathing technique. So here we are standing next to road looking like we belong in the labor ward. He got me laughing so hard which only aggravated the spasms and caused even more pain. Then, he looks at me cutely and says, "I guess laughter isn't the best medicine." I'd smack him but that would hurt too much. I'll have to remember to do that when I get better.