I fully admit that there was a moment when I had no idea what day it was when I woke up this morning. I thought I was over that part of our little 8 month long and counting worldwide pandemic, but alas—nay.
When that bit of momentary memory loss passed I rubbed my eyes, farted, yawned, and said, “Wednesday. It’s Wednesday. Wednesday, how the fuck did we get here?”
It seems that the allegorical tale of near drunken death and breast ogling aboard the RMS Titanic was met with less than stellar reviews from my wife. I believe the term she used was, “It was a bit much.” Sigh.
I’m not one to argue with a reviewer, but I think she missed the story’s silver lining, which pointed out that no matter how bad things seem to be, they can sort of maybe work out. But first, a bunch of people are going to die.
Stick a pin in this post, right—— HERE!
That bit of wisdom was seen scrawled on the restroom wall of the Burger Barn in Hoopa, California.1
Like a moth to the lame, a lemming to the fire, and a virgin to a cliff, Macro Monday has returned! [insert feigned applause and mumbled groans here] This time, it’s a two-parter.
Like getting rim-burning runs after a hot wing and Natty Light binge, Macro Monday is back! To be honest, I don’t know what that means, or why I felt the need to type it, but what’s done is done2.
Someday this will all be over. Eventually, I will wake up in the morning and know what day it is, and care what day it is. Someday the country won’t be a polarized and divided dumpster fire, and the name of the orange fuck face in the White House will just be a despicable footnote in the pretty darn, not bad history of our country.
Until that day comes, I will keep doin’ what I do to make life fun: ride bikes, take photos, hike trails, love my wife and kid, watch the footy, drink beer, and make food.
The past week was filled with ups and downs. To be honest, it was mostly filled with downs, but I’m choosing not to devote any more brainpower than is absolutely necessary to those bits and think about my Friday morning ride.
Everything old is new again. Well, not that old, and not that new, but on Friday morning, I found myself riding with a friend (or anyone) for the first time in years.
This week has been a rollercoaster shit show of good days, bad days, a swell 49th birthday, COVID angst, life angst, adulting, a crap walk in the woods that yielded not one photo I liked, a somewhat OK ride south of town, and a few hours at the shop.
