I have something funky going on with my back. About ten years ago I wrenched it very wrong and every now and again if I twist just right I can get it to wrench again. But today the funkiness was different. Of course lately I have been raving about how good my back feels and how "it must be because of running...blahblah." After running five miles this morning I came home to Abel jumping on the couch already sporting a lumpy diaper. So after changing him I forgot to stretch. In the shower I twisted just that wrong way and a wave of pain and depression settled around my entire back. Very weird. Not sure if it was for the lack of stretching or I was just due for a freak bout of pain.

I then did what most normal people do. Popped three motrin and went to work. By 12:30 I needed three more. It was the type of pain that can't be remedied by adjusting your position. I was ready to lay flat on my back.

On the way home I had visions of not cooking dinner and Scott lovingly took us through the Wendys window. I have a love-hate relationship with the Wendys. I think it depends on the day and location. One day I could be perfectly happy with the product and then there are days like today. My chicken sandwich was scorched and someone squeezed excessive amounts of clotted mayo on the bun before sitting on it. yum. I also ordered a baked potato that was a weird shade of brown, on the inside where it should be white. So I mashed it up with sour cream and salt and ate it. yum times two. Abel was happy. His chicken nuggets were all he dreamed they could be and Scott seemed content with his spicy chicken.

Sometime when your back hurts you will eat whatever you are given for dinner. I guess that is my story. I am going to take more drugs.