I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow. I know it’s going to rain tonight, because the wind is blowing and the trees are thrashing around and the neighbors’ back porch windchimes are more urgently creepy, but I hope it’s over by morning. Chris says that he heard on the forecast there’d be morning showers but I keep checking my little weather widgets from two different sources and right now both of them still show little suns in the Friday box. Okay, so one little sun has wispy clouds around it, but hey, I’ll take wisps; wisps don’t get me wet. I can ride my bike through those. I want to ride my bike to work again.
I want to ride my bike because last week in New York I ate all of 23rd Street between Seventh and Eighth. I ate stuff from seven different places on that street, not even counting the deli where I got an apple and a Diet Coke or the muffins they had in the morning at the hotel. I ate some tacos and some paella and a cupcake and some tater tots and a falafel sandwich and a barbeque sandwich and THIS THING, which is so astounding I can’t believe it even existed in the world before I ate it. And now I’m back and I want to ride my bike. I also want to ride my bike because gas costs $3.59 a gallon here, which makes riding my bike seem very clever indeed. I already took the five dollars I was planning not to spend on gas tomorrow and I put it towards a fabulously expensive Whole Foods salad bar salad, one topped with grilled veggies and tempeh chunks and caviar and shiny nickels and gift cards. And it’s waiting in the work fridge and all I have to do is point my bike in the general direction of that fridge and ride. As long as it’s not raining then.
Update: No rain. I made it here to work. HOORAY.