Back to the Routine

We’re a bit sore, but we conquered our respective races despite 94% humidity and less-than-ideal temperatures.

Two days later, the dehydration headaches are gone, but the sore quads remain, reminding us of Sunday’s insanity. I keep saying, “Well, at least it’s a ‘good’ sore.” I suppose I mean that it’s better to be sore from extreme physical exertion than sore from resuming workouts after a long period of lazing about.

And now that we’re past this race, it seems like we’ve fallen instantly back into the routine of home, work and petting the furbabies. They, of course, spent as much time as possible on our laps. I’m not sure if they simply missed us or if the cold front brought on an extreme case of cold pads. (Poor kitties!)

This morning, somewhat confirming that all’s back as it should be, I scurried around (as fast as my quadriceps would allow) preparing our lunches. I was nearly done, when the container of sour cream slipped out of my hand and crashed to the floor.

Sour cream was everywhere. The wall. The cabinet. The floor. My trousers. The refrigerator.

All I could say, and all The Boy heard as he walked into the room, was: “NO!!!!!”

He looked at me and said, “Well, I see some things don’t change. I’m just thankful that you do most of your damage to yourself and not me, or I would have been dead long ago.”

Hmmmmfph.

My quads and I wondered if perhaps it was a day to rely on the furbabies to take care of kitchen disaster clean-up. And maybe find a way to do damage to someone other than myself…