Sorry about that last one. I should probably just Google it, but instead I'm on my kitchen floor in pajamas drinking Pinot Noir.
Some other random thoughts:
Romance is lame. What really counts is asking someone to be your emergency contact for race registration, etc., when you've moved to a totally new state and your body hurts and you have trust issues. Don't laugh. This is a big deal.
If I tell myself over and over and over again that I'm not really injured, then it's not really true. Right? RIGHT?
Fifteen percent alcohol in a Pinot Noir is pretty damn high. Especially for a Tuesday night.
Today I went to the hardware store on my lunch break (to make spare keys for said emergency contact who will also be baby-sitting my