After four beers and a vicodin on Thursday night I was in no shape to ride my bike on Friday. Let's not mention the depression too.
Still, I can not recall when I have slept better in recent memory. Perhaps substance abuse isn't such a bad thing.
After work on Friday I bought a new pair of shorts because my current shorts have faded to brown from chlorine and exposure to sunlight.
Got beer, Guinness Extra Stout and Killian's Irish Red, and was disappointed that I was unable to locate any hard sparkling cider at the liquor store. I wasn't inclined to go to Coal Train because I wanted to be more local even if it is a mere quarter of a mile.
At the bike store I got a cyclometer and a portable hand pump. The one I received for Christmas from raddidge's sainted mother will be used on a regular basis, as it has been for quite some time, but it's really not that portable! Considering my tubes are full of tire sealant and I'll eventually install the tire liners most likely I won't need to use any pump but the one in my apartment.
Year's Best SF was on the shelves at Barnes & Noble and now it's on the lovesac waiting to be cracked but it needs to understand I have to finish Moby Dick before I read my newest acquisition.
There are three formerly feral kittens living in the Birdhouse basement. Oh man, they're so tiny. A tabby who has been named Tiger. He was inclined to rest in the crook of my arm against my belly. Lila is a noisy black kitten who complains about everything. Socks is a tuxedo kitten who is very playful and is best described by Jaybird as the best cat for a 7 year old boy.
It was very hard to keep my composure because I kept tearing up holding the kittens. Only Lila and Tiger were amenable to being held, Socks was far too rambunctuous and independent for such shenanigans. The first impulse to go through my head was to take Tiger home which was countered by another thought to bring Spot over to say hello to the kittens.
When I left Jaybird pointed out Mommacat who was walking along the front sidewalk looking up at the Birdhouse. Right then and there I had to get on my bike and start riding home because the mom of those kittens loves her babies so much that she will always keep an eye out for them, hoping the bald houseapes are taking good care of them and didn't feed the kittens to the big hairy ape. As I looked back, Mommacat was sitting in the backyard of the Pentecostal church, staring across the driveway at me.
"They're okay. They still love you and miss you. I'm sorry Mommacat."
Whew.
Now the pump needs to be returned because it lacks a doohickey that makes it actually pump air into a valve! Most likely that's my sole chore for Saturday.
