Over the weekend Andreas worked out a little too hard and hurt himself. He’s got some gnarly fucked up muscle in his right neck/shoulder area, and although he’s still not sure what caused it (running in prep for the Seattle marathon? acro class last week? something at the gym? project management muscle strain at work? who can keep track of all his jocking out!) he’s been gimping around all week.

He’s been doing that thing where instead of turning his head, he turns his entire torso … sort of like C3P0, but with more grimacing and less of an accent. He’s also been gobbling ibuprofin, but he’s clearly still in a lot of pain and wakes up a lot at night and it’s very, very sad. No amount of massages from me seem to help, and in fact two nights ago he pointed to this weird solid mass on his shoulder and said, “Is this a bone or a muscle?” I had to report that sadly that it was a muscle.

Last night I came home from a delightful dinner with my Evil Twin and found Andreas grinning in the kitchen.

“You’re finally feeling better!” I said, giving him a big hug and noticing the lack of C3P0-ness.

He nodded and explained that he’d been in a lot of pain when he got home, and was trying to think what might make him feel better.

He slurred at me, “And then I realized, DRINKING! Drinking would make my neck stop hurting.”

I gave him my best dubious-wife look. Grinning loopily with glazed half-lidded eyes, he reported, “And so I drank a bunch of wine, and now I feel good!!” Then he toddled off to the bedroom and feel asleep at 9:30pm. This morning he reported that the shoulder felt better.

Take note of this, aspiring physical therapists: apparently three-fourths of a $3 bottle of leftover Charles Shaw Merlot will work miracles.