All the Wrong Moves

: Tracy Beckerman on May 12, 2026

I've had issues with my lower back in the past. It usually happens when I'm doing something strenuous, like putting on my socks. Because of this, I typically never know when it will strike. It's kind of like knowing someone around the corner is going to hit you with a freight train, except you don't know which corner or how they came to be driving a freight train on the sidewalk.

There are other times my back goes out and it makes sense. Such as recently, when we bought a new old house, with lots of stairs inside and out, and I decided I wanted to be moved in ... in a day. Yes, eight hours to completely unpack and put away a kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms and other assorted rooms and stuff -- a challenge which is near impossible, yet I was willing to try. Having moved three times in the past three years, I have actually gotten quite good at this and decided this must be my superpower. My husband has even given me a special superhero nickname.

Captain Crazy.

Having just done this now for the fourth time, I am inclined to agree with him. Especially in light of the fact that after this feat of superhuman strength and endurance, I didn't then go on to save the world from evil alien turtles who want to wipe out the human race. No, I just bent over to tie my sneaker and completely wiped out. In this instance, I'm pretty certain that it wasn't the tying of the sneaker but rather the eight hours that led up to that. Tying the sneaker was simply the straw that broke the camel's -- or, rather, the columnist's -- back.

Unfortunately, when this kind of thing happens, I really don't know how long the pain will last. It could be a couple of days, or it could be till next Christmas.

Which raises the question: How do you move into a house when you're flat on your back?

My husband was busy surveying the things that needed to be fixed. He carried a can of WD-40 in one hand, sincerely hoping he would find something that should be oiled. If you asked my husband what his favorite item is for fixing things, I have no doubt he would say, without hesitation, WD-40. From his passion for the stuff, it would seem that any household problem could be solved by spritzing it with WD-40. So you could imagine his excitement when we got a new, very old house, filled with rusted thingamabobs and squeaky whooziwhats that all needed oiling.

He indeed looked quite serious about his quest, and so I thought he would be very reluctant to help me with my job. But since there was no one else who could unpack besides him and me, I realized I would have to make it worth his while.

"Hey honey, can you help me out?" I called out to him.

"I'm busy. I have to oil things," he said.

"I know, but I'm on my back and I need your help."

He showed up at the door, having now created a holster for his WD-40 so he had his hands free to hold whatever it was that needed to be oiled.

"What?" he said.

"We have a problem. There are still a lot of boxes to unpack, and my back is out," I said.

"We'll have to deal with that later. I've got to go oil the garbage can."

"That's fine, but I thought you should know that one of the boxes has your tools in it."

He paused. I could see the unoiled wheels turning.

"I probably don't need the tools yet," he finally said hesitantly.

"And," I continued, "another box has the toilet paper."

He put down the WD-40.

"OK," he said looking at the boxes. "Where do I start?"

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Tracy Beckerman is the author of the Amazon Bestseller, "Barking at the Moon: A Story of Life, Love, and Kibble," available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble online! You can visit her at www.tracybeckerman.com.

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