You made me do it. You insisted that I promise you that I'd read Breakfast at Tiffany's, and so I did. I reserved it from the library and when I was in there the other day they informed my that my book had arrived. This afternoon, I sat with a glass of water and a bowl of rice for a late lunch and commenced to read.
So this morning I spent my VERY LAST cash dollar to take the bus to the bank to cash a check a client wrote. Yeah, cutting things a bit too close this month. Anyway, I got to the bank and they told me that there were insufficient funds in the account. Crap.
I rode my bike to pick up a check from a client this morning. Went up Mission to Cesar Chavez and then across to 3rd street and up around the Embarcadero to Fisherman's Wharf, where my client's office is. Then I rode around Pacific Heights and over to the Marina, and then out to the Bridge. I stopped and talked to a couple of tourists along the way and gave them some directions, then out to Seacliff.
I guess it's yesterday now, but I thought I'd check in.
This is the second time I’ve burned my oatmeal by forgetting it was on the stove after being distracted by women online. I propose a new euphemism: «burning my oatmeal» for all forms of neglecting one’s well-being or any other duties because of following The Imperious Urge. As in: «I’m sorry, what were you saying? I was totally burning my oatmeal.» or «There was a board meeting today? Oh crap, I guess I really burned the oatmeal this time.»
So today in an attempt to reclaim some of my cycling honor after having given climbed only halfway to Geary Ave from Ocean beach the other day, I rode from my apartment to the Mount Davidson cross. On the map, that's only about one and a third miles, but it's a climb to 927 feet above sea level from my place off of Mission Street. I don't know what the altitude is here, but I rode past Glen park BART station, which is at 180 feet above sea level. So that's a 750 foot climb over just a few miles.
On my road bike, with a 42x23 low gear. Hello, knee surgery.
I'm about 50 feet above sea level--if that--and I've had to stop and rest for the last 10 minutes. What happened to the days when I climbed mountains on my bike just to say I had?
Today someone gave me a Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous pamphlet about sexual anorexia.
Is it that obvious?
Makes me wonder what those kinds of 12-step folks do for an intervention. Heh heh heh…
I just let my oatmeal burn on the stove because I was too busy chatting online with a pretty woman who I inadvertantly offended.
Mmmmm-mm! Well, at least burnt oatmeal tastes better than the foot I just pried out of my mouth.
Sore throat, stuffed up head, headache, body aches. My sinuses are trying to bludgeon their way out of my face. NOT a happy camper.
Taking some Dimetapp. Lets see if I'll start seeing the marshmallow surprises found in every box of Lucky Charms. Woo!
Back to bed now. Maybe try to earn a living later.