No, I haven’t been riding lately. It’s been raining, as it always does here, for near eighteen months continuously, and when it isn’t raining (I know this is contradictory, but my brain is moldy) it’s threatening to rain Any Minute Now. Or I’m in my car in the middle of The World’s Largest Traffic Jam Again, staring at the sun in disgust as it breaks in glorious golden maleficence through the clouds.
Or perhaps somewhere there is a giant Jack in the Beanstalk type character, fattening me up for a Ren-Fair style medieval feast, with enormous jousting knights and a couple mournful-looking tame dancing bears wearing fezzes.
Or it might be the newest in my long and noble tradition of Deadly Sinus Infections. Well, not deadly, I suppose, but deadly, if you know what I mean. This one had me barking like a seal for about three weeks. I refused to get antibiotics, because, you know… they suck so very, very much. But after I realized that My Patient Partner had not slept in our bed in nearly a month because I was waking every night so wracked with coughing that I had to run into the bathroom and throw up, I saw that it was time to bite the medical bullet. I’m still in recovery, but at least My P.P. can sleep in our bed once more instead of the fold-out futon in one of The Girl’s rooms.
Or maybe it’s just winter and I’ve grown lazy. Take your pic. But by the time spring comes, I’ll be able to roll myself downhill like a nice pair of cream Schwalbes — I won’t even need a bike!