This week saw all three bikes in use. Tuesday night, Idid not listen to the little voice that suggested I ask if I could bring my bike in tothe lobby at Cinematheque. I was really late for the movie already and I don't know how to use the elevator while the stairs are tall and high so it is prohibitive to carry her up. When I came out 1 hour and 40 minutes later, I swung my bag off my shoulder to put it on my rack only to discover the rack was gone, my cables were dangling loose from being cut and the front fender was loose. After bellowing in rage and cursing loudly and repeatedly, I began a cold and angry walk home. A short chat with a homeless guy huddled in an alcove (beginning with a probably unwise "did you take stuff off my bike?!") cooled me down a bit as I realized how grateful I was to have a warm home to go to with food in the fridge to eat and no relationship drama preventing me from seeing beloved family members. The futility of the theft still makes...
a smattering of brain droppings from a self-styled writer