It’s 9:40 AM on a Monday morning. I should be at work, but I alas, I ain’t gots no (real) job due to my less than stellar educational history, now redundant early 90s design skills, geographic locale, lack of employable talents, and no man’s land age. [See Underemployed, Being on the About page]
No, I am sitting in front of a computer writing this stuff. I have no idea what I’m about to write, but I need to vomit up some sort of verbiage in hopes of convincing myself to ride my bike. An activity—outside of a 13-mile rail-trail ride and a 30-minute Zwift™ session— I have not done in almost a month.
Why, you ask? Fuck, I don’t know.