I went out last night with my good friends to celebrate another good friend's birthday. There was karaoke. There was beer. There was staying up until 2:30 am and sleeping in my clothes on the couch with the dogs. It was a great night.
There was also the task of getting up in the morning and making a brief trip to the mailbox. My alarm was set for 7:30 am so as to be ready to walk the half-mile round-trip to and from the mailbox. On my way out, however, I noticed my bicycle standing in the rack next to the other bicycles that honestly hadn't been ridden in a while. Of course I contemplated taking it for a spin. Not only would it get some attention but it would also cut down on actual walking time so I could get a start to my day a little faster. I strapped on my helmet, hopped on and went.
The school just across the street from the townhome complex I live in was just starting the session for the day. Cars were zooming around the corner and up and down the street. The sun was just beginning to warm the cool air surrounding, and I found myself groggily singing along to some V.V. Brown song that's been stuck in my head for days. I dropped off my letter at the mailbox and turned around to head home, but figured what with the added benefit of time thanks to my two wheels I'd take a short spin around the neighborhood. Last time I did that was around Christmas time, during a dark and damp evening, when everyone's houses resembled iced gingerbread darlings with lit-up gumdrop accents. I wallowed for a bit in my beer-induced somewhat-sleepiness - if not a hangover - and slight high from the influx of good company this past weekend brought while the rest of the world went about their business. I zig-zagged up and down the maze of streets contained within the block and bordered by main streets; I looked down at my dress shoes and realized I should probably head on home and change if perhaps I thought to go on a longer ride...
It was nice. As a brief side thought, I've been suffering from a mad case of writer's block lately and have an inkling that maybe a ride might help grease the wheels a bit more. We'll see what this afternoon holds.
More updates to come. Thanks for sticking around.
Author of The Thorn Birds, Colleen McCullough, dead at 77
13 minutes ago