Two days ago my phone died. Last night the cable exploded. The energy spinning off of me in free radical stress electrons is shutting down traffic signals as I approach.
So I finally got on the bike and used some steam wisely.
Biscuits, gravy, beer, it doesn’t matter. The stress of home-purchasing grinds it all up and then the gut feeds on itself. Why am I not celebrating? I don’t have a key yet, that’s why. Until that happens I assume we are in an anything goes scenario, ergo the grinding.
A roll across town, through campus, after a disastrous football weekend got me off the couch. The CEO of Bike House, the new shop on Jackson Bluff road, he pulled the sword from the stone. I want to say more about that place, but it deserves better attention than I have right now. It has the whiff of success to it, I can tell you that much.
To all of you whom I have recently turned down for rides, I appreciate you keeping an eye on me. I intend to do better.
San Felasco registration happens this week.