A table flip is when reality meets fantasy.

It’s in reference to when a group of players – old school D&D – would sit around a table playing. Tensions run high and the physical table would be flipped – from top to bottom – with the legs standing up. Or, if it were a really good flip or a cheap table, the legs would be strewn across the room.

Carefully painted miniatures would be chipped. Dungeon Master shields would have to be uncrumpled. Character sheets would have to be found.

But, more importantly, the mood would be reset. The actual motion of flipping the table is startling, loud, and cathartic. After a pause of Mountain Dew and Doritos, the game usually merrily carries on.

Physical reality recedes back, and the game can commence.

I doubt a table flip actually occurs anymore, even when people are playing in person. It’s probably considered impolite or violent, or the person may just not have the strength to flip a table.

A table flip still happens. Sometimes a flip is needed for a reset.

I think that’s what I tried to do today, but I failed.

I did some stuff I shouldn’t.
– I flipped the mattress. It’s a queen.
– I flipped couch cushions.
– I pushed out furniture – including the bed – and all but flipped myself on my head trying to dust underneath it.

All of these flips more than likely stretched the back – and the wounds – and the dti (deep tissue injury) – more than the doctors would like.

I’m supposed to be ‘careful.’

It shouldn’t get worse.
No one wants it too.
It’s not healing now.

But… I’m looking for that reset.
I’m looking for the table flip.

And I didn’t get it.

I did get an uncomfortable couch as I’m not used to the cushion being this way.

Hopefully, the bed doesn’t suck. It’s been ages since the mattress was flipped. Or, more correctly, turned as it’s not meant to be flipped. It has foam on one side, not both.

But — whatever.

Here’s to Monday.
Maybe the surgical doctor will say she’ll push my reset.

The bar will come out.
My spine will be rebuilt.

And my life will truly be reset.