Tuesday was host to the first real snow of the season. Before anyone back east thinks that I'm going to be digging out of six foot drifts, the snow out here rarely accumulates more than eight inches.
Best analogy. Every state of the union has its quota of snow. Sometimes New Jersey decides that it's going to use all its snow at once but for the rest of the season there's not much snow. Southern Colorado uses its allotment of snow on a regular, even basis throughout the year. If one wants the kind of snow that's associated with the Donner party, go up to 9,000 feet and head out to the back slope.
I like to think that my bike is a happier bicycle. Instead of roaming around the neighborhood late at night, my bike is indoors, safe and warm. No more bell ringing at all hours of the night serenading the other feral bicycles in the neighborhood. Neighbors who need to sleep no longer have to throw shoes to break up the bikes.
By the way, I know you are wondering, the collective noun for bicycles is "chain".
More than a handful of years ago I was in a situation where I was afraid to bring up any sexually oriented dreams out of fear of hurting someone's feelings or sparking a fight. So I tend to keep this kind of shit to myself. Also I think it's in bad taste.
Fast forward a couple of years and I'm not having any qualms about posting sexually graphic dreams at heptapod.org which involve other people who are other people that I know in real life regardless if I see them IRL anymore.
Yet early this morning I had one dream that I'm on the fence about posting at heptapod.org.
So I'm going to give the Reader's Digest version that's tasteful and clean despite the content.
