Since I was a little girl, I’ve had a tendency to deny help and stay uncomfortable for no apparent reason.
“Do you want a pillow? How can you sit like that?” my mom would ask as I watched TV on her bedroom floor.
“I’m fine!” I’d squeal. Buffy the Vampire Slayer had returned from commercial break and I was not to be disturbed.
My mom would frown and walk away, only to ask me again 15 minutes later (“No! Go away!“).
You see, I was on the floor leaning against her bed. Except, not the normal sides of a bed that one typically leans on. I was propping my torso against the edge of the foot of the bed, the corner where metal mattress frames go to poke at spines and injure shins.
During the hour-long show (and later, during Angel, Dawson’s Creek, Felicity…), I would shift the metal edge from one side of my spine to the other, back and forth, left to right.