Seriously, am I just cursed?

I'm thinking I probably shouldn't do any more theatre with this particular theatre company. Why, you ask? Hasn't it been fun? Is it not artistically satisfying? Do you hate the people involved?

Oh, nothing like that, I assure you. It just seems that every time I work with this company, something happens to me. Physically. Something...not so good. Something different every time, and while I'm certainly no stranger to accident and injury, still, I can't help but wonder...is the universe trying to tell me something? (/Carrie Bradshaw)

Four shows in four years.

Show number one (which I know I've blogged about, but I'm too lazy to look it up and link it): my first musical in many, many years, and it managed to coincide precisely with the first cold I'd had in five years, and the ONLY time I've ever completely lost my voice. I mimed an entire performance. Big fun.

Show number two: another musical. A couple of days before rehearsals started, I fell and broke my arm. Did the entire rehearsal period (including dance rehearsals) in a cast, did the show with my arm wrapped in an ace bandage. (Didn't tell my doctor, for fear he'd freak out and forbid me to do it.)

Show number three: driving to rehearsal the week the show opened, an idiot pulled out in front me. I couldn't stop in time, and smacked into him. Smashed up my car, bruised my chest and cracked a rib. Was in pain every time I breathed for the whole run of the show.

Show number four: the current show. Said theatre company now has a policy whereby the cast of the show is required to do load-in/load-out of the set. (For the record, I think this is insane. Things can happen when heavy things are being lifted and carried, under the best of circumstances. What if one of your actors is put out of commission? It's not like we have understudies. Nonetheless, I wanted to do the show, so I agreed to it.) I wasn't thrilled about it, naturally, but I've always had a nice strong back (New Guy and I moved every bit of his furniture into his apartment when he came to town, and I never had a twinge) so I didn't worry about it, particularly. Nothing I lifted/moved seemed to be a problem AS I lifted/moved it, but a few minutes later...what's that unsettling feeling in my lower back? Oh, dear. Is this what they mean by "throw out your back"? Is this what happens when you start to get old? I made it through rehearsal, stopped at the drugstore on the way home for aromatic old people cream, and spent a few hours on a heating pad.

This morning? Well...I was able to move. And really, it only hurt when I sat down, tried to get up from sitting, or needed for some reason to bend over. You know...EVERY SINGLE PART OF MY MORNING ROUTINE. (I attempted to drop blobs of canned cat food onto the platter on the floor without bending. That was amusing. There may or may not have been some plops that hit cat heads. Hee.) I didn't for a moment consider shaving my legs, and the hair dryer? Down there under the bathroom sink? Totally not worth it. Getting up and down from the toilet was easier, seeing as how the previous occupant of my house was (literally) a 100-year-old woman who had nice little handles installed everywhere she needed them, including one very handy one across from the toilet. God bless her.

I'm pleased to report, though, that moving has become considerably easier as the hours have passed and my muscles have loosened up, so I don't think doing the show is going to be any problem. I'm just going to be miserable first thing in the morning for a few days. I mean, even more miserable than my usual "my god, do I really have to get up and go to work again" misery. Gah.

So, what do you think? Cursed?