Mmm, Wine

As I headed into week three of my head cold, I decided that I could no longer use The Sniffles as an excuse to be a complete and utter lump, and finally made it over to run on the treadmill at my sister-in-law’s house. About seven minutes into my jog, I felt an odd sensation. My entire back was seizing up. I jumped off the treadmill (and here I use the term “jump” loosely, because what I did really more resembled “bailing in an exceedingly ungraceful way”) and limped home like The Hunchback of Notre Dame, were he more petite and muscle-less.

By the afternoon I had exhausted my supply of people to whine to in the middle of a weekday, so I sucked it up and went to the store for some extra-strength Alleve. Which I’ve been popping like candy ever since.

I have taken this as a very serious sign from the universe that I am not to jog ever again. I wish the sign wasn’t so painful and long-lasting.

Um. Mostly that’s it. This week has mostly been about whining and canoodling back rubs out of my husband. I took a break from the pills yesterday to go to a happy hour with a girlfriend, and found that enough Pinot Noir can hold its own against any sort of OTC painkiller. I was relaxed and happy and more flexible than ever last night!

Sadly, hangovers are kind of not really great at all for back pain. I found solace, again, in the Alleve this morning.

Also, this I decree: I think I am giving up on The Office. It’s a funny show, but I’m really fucking sick of them only bothering to air a new episode every third week. I don’t love it that much. I hear 30 Rock is better, anyway.