Thanks for all the good thoughts and advice - all of you. I'm feeling a lot better, though still moving slowly. The spasms in my back seem to be easing up a lot, and I think that in another day or two I'll be moving more like myself, and much to Joe's glee, likely complaining and swearing less.
Being laid up is something I'm really bad at, it turns out. I've got too much pride to ask for help, so when I need it, I just reek of frustration. Knitting has really been what kept me as sane as I have been the last few days, although there's not a lot to show for it. I'm a few days off of a book deadline, so whenever my back would tolerate me moving my arms without setting off a string of spasms, I was mostly typing.
Still, I managed to finish the uber-cowl. Details tomorrow, when I think I can get Meg to model it, 
and I did manage to finish some soon-to-be-felted clogs, though the washing machine is still awfully far away for me to be staggering up and down the stairs to get there. There's a lot of time until Christmas - or at least that's what I'm telling myself, so I'll wait until the idea of going into the basement doesn't need to be approached with all the fortitude and organizational zeal of an expedition to the Arctic. 
I've knit many, many pairs of these clogs over the years, and how big they are before felting never stops being funny to me. (My foot added for scale.)
It appears however, if the reaction of Joe and the girls is any sort of gauge, that I might be the only one still charmed enough to discuss it in any real way. (I'm basing that on how flat the conversation fell last night.) 
For now I'm churning out a plain sock- and wondering if I'm well enough to tackle the ball winder so I can start the last pair of the self-imposed-sock-of-the-month-club for this year.
Turns out that you use your back to turn the handle on a ball winder.
Who knew?