Well, after a terrible night of sleep but a wonderful day preceding it, I am feeling many side effects. On the one hand, I Courtney, with the tortilla help of my husband, successfully made Cafe Rio Salad. It only took around 15 hours (That sounds bad, but it isn't. Slow cooker, beautiful).
I was so nervous before we started serving up our plates, I was shaking. BUUUUUT, I dare say that it was the best thing I have ever made! The only empirical data I have to back this up is that I never actually want to eat anything after I cook it, and darlin', I had two helpings . So, I knew this one turned out pretty dern good. I know, I'm amazing, I can read directions and put ingredients into bowls.
However, we just finished our 2nd day leftover dinner, and it was still just as good. A pretty spot on copycat. And having it two days in a row makes the cost of all of the ingredients balance. And, we could even get one more day out of it, and make it one gigantic bang for our buck.
Now, about the sleep. I have never had back ailments before, besides a standard knot or two. But holy mid-back pain iron man! The last two days have been a doozy. Luckily, I have a nearly-professional masseur of a husband. But alas, when none of that worked yesterday or today (but for a few minutes) I knew I was in trouble.
Since I'm not Kate Middleton (even though I jest) I am not in a position to pay round the clock centaurs to massage my back and/or diagnose the issue. Tom believes it is due to my helping him lift a couch two days ago, I think it was from doing a 4 minute body blast workout three days ago that involved push-ups (up).
So, today, as we made our intensive memorial day "fill in the gaps" shopping trek, I was a total dead weight winey baby boo boo loser. I couldn't even get to Anthropologie! ANTH-RO-PO-LOG-IE!!!!!
Tom is right though, giving it more attention makes it more obnoxious. It's like telling Richard Simmon's you're interested in a new weight loss method. Only, he makes you laugh as he dances through the 80s, and a bachache just gets achier, without striped shorty-shorts to ease the pain. Ok, I think the hallucinogenic pain killers have finally set in. A Richard SIMMONS analogy? What's WRONG WITH ME!???
Anyway, for the time being, we're doing Bengay, Ibuprofen every 4 hours, and occasional back rubs along the spine, and unfortunately, I have about 30 minute stints where I can help Tom work on the loft. And BOY has he been working. The man has just whipped up dinner, arranged all of our cupboards (rearranged), scotch guarded our new couch, and mopped our floor...most of which was under my direction or viewership. Not to mention his cardboard box breaking down marathon for the last three days. I feel terrible! The man is a machine and don't think I'm not aware of it. I was striving and working on that kind of machine-like level of being until this stupid back thing and now everyone is free to write "Sure Courtney, suuuure. Backache." To this assumed reaction, I respond, "I am rubber you are glue and I have Bengay. It tingles! A lot!"
PS) I got awesome house shoes today. So there's that.