I’d checked the weather last night, and I checked it again this morning – today, the heavens may just permit me to ride to work.
I donned the appropriate attire, sat at the dining table and ate my breakfast while catching up on events that happened while I was fast asleep. I then packed my bag, clipped on the helmet, stopped myself short of putting on my gloves just yet – my fine motor skills are still required to fiddle with my keys and the lock downstairs. So I stuff them into my pockets for now.
Down one flight of stairs, and another, and another…
Out the main entrance, onto public thoroughfare, past the meat shop. The tram stop was in sight.
How silly I must’ve looked to the meat monger – walking about with my helmet and cycling tights on.
I quickly doubled back while trying to decide whether to take the longer route around the block, or to ride past the meat monger and confirm my prior confusion.
Back in through the main entrance, I completed the final flights of stairs to the basement, fiddled with my lock and key, wrapped my palms in toasty Thinsulate and I was off.
I rode as fast as safety would allow, still I swore I heard a chuckle as I rode past. What a story Mr. Meat Monger would have to tell at morning tea later.