Of Roving, Tinfoil And Men On Trikes...

Any day that starts with a slice to the finger courtesy of some very wild and vicious tin foil then ends with not being able to make a left hand turn onto your street because you have to yield to a man on a tricycle would normally be considered "off." Leaving the house clutching a scrap of paper towel to your bleeding digit and hoping against hope that the breakfast enclosed in the offending tinfoil is unsullied is usually something of an omen. And, for that matter...


Grown men do not belong on tricycles. This is probably a law somewhere and I will be researching the matter tonight in great depth. It is distracting, causes one to pause on the gas and allows the tricyclist to position himself squarely in the middle of the street onto which I must turn. At that point, I will often lose my "turning window" and then have to wait for thirty-seven tourist filled mini vans to pass before I can get another foot closer to home. Grown men do not belong on tricycles. This bears repeating. There isn't much you can do about them. They are too stable to tip over and are moving slowly enough that there are sure to be one or two witnesses should you try. You just have to glare at them. Maybe mock them a bit.


They don't care. They just grab a Snapple Iced Tea out of their bike basket and ring their little bike bell at you.


But, despite all evidence to the contrary, it wasn't a bad day. It was the last Monday of the last week of the '06-'07 educational experience for the students in my school district. There is a great deal which can go horribly wrong at this point. Kids can become so emotionally overwrought by the thought of the upcoming freedom that they can make bad choices with regard to language and safety. Teachers can lose all control over their verbal ability and the thoughts that have been of the "inside your head voice" variety can suddenly become the "outside your head voice" sort of thing. Teachers have to keep a great deal inside. We need to keep our jobs if only for the insurance. The insurance pays for the therapy.


Today being Monday, I'm still able to use the This Time Next Week I'll Be... game to keep me on the straight and narrow. I know that if I can just hang on a bit longer that this time next week I'll still be asleep in bed. It really doesn't matter when you, the dear reader, is perusing this. Trust me...I'll still be asleep in bed. I'm pretty sure of this. I may sleep for a week.



Before I do that, though, remind me to put up a picture of the lovely, lovely, lovely Jacob roving that Teri sent for me to put up as a prize for my Relay For Life Sponsorship prize drawing. I'm trying to get a shot of it next to the Big, Fluffy Kitty for scale. It is over a pound! It is huuuuuuuge!!!! And soooooooft!!!!! That's the roving, I'm talking about...the kitty is, too, I'll grant you. But she's not in the prize drawing. You can possibly win the roving. But the Big, Fluffy Kitty stays here, 'kay? Thanks so much for donating this prize, Teri! It is taking every ounce of strength I have to not just hide it for my own spinning happiness!


But that would be wrong. And the universe punishes those who do wrong, I'm sure of it. There is a special place in the underworld for people who engage in such reprehensible behavior.


You have to wrestle with tin foil while riding a giant tricycle for all eternity. I'm pretty sure that's in the Bible...



SA