Sighs, Rubs, & Pulls

I don’t know, man [rubs gelatinous, stubbled cheeks, then eyes, followed by a pull of unkempt hair]. I haven’t been on my bike since Friday, and I don’t know whether I’m happy, moderately upset, almost sad, or not giving a shit about it.

A lot of that is due to me spending my not-at-all precious free time attempting to fortify the drainage in the egress window wells of the Cul-De-Sac-Shack before the next heavy rain. Which, according to my watch (actually a phone, but are we really gonna split graying shorthairs about that?) is due to drop in about 4 hours from the time of writing this. That means that in 4 hours, one minute, I will either be patting myself on the fat of my back for the hard work I put in over the weekend or getting all Sylvia Plath on you and seeking out vintage oven/gas line combos. I joke, I digress.

I haven’t ridden my bike, but I did do a LOT of footy watching, music listening, beer-drinking, book reading, FIFA playing, cooking, and hardcore goofing off. I also gimped a few hours at the shop here and there, saw some vintage bikes in need of fixing, and took a few pics of trandom hings that have me sighing and rubbing my gelatinous stubbled cheeks and sagging eyes, before grasping at my unkempt hair.

I’m not sure what the morning will bring; a ride, a hike, a sleep-in, or another useless call to our insurance carrier.

NOTE: Just remember, sometimes you have to get on the floor with the spilled dog food to get of good pic of Jake (the dog) social distancing (or potentially loftier goal of your choice).


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