I had been wondering what to do about my bag. After all, it was my first attempt, and as endearing as quirkiness may be, there were definitely flaws to be corrected in the design and execution. Still, I thought it might be a waste to basically chuck a perfectly functional bag, especially one that held such specific significance for me.
Luckily, someone else made the decision for me.
I saw something today that I do not believe I will ever see again. Riding up 1st Avenue between 77th and 79th Streets, there were, in a row, a USPS truck, a UPS truck, and a regular delivery box truck all double parked, as per usual… but not blocking the bike lane. As if this were not borderline impossible enough, the driver of the delivery truck did something that I had come to regard as beyond their capability: he saw me in his mirror and waited for me to pass so that he didn’t door me.
I almost crashed from shock.
I took today to do a lot of chores (well, errands, more accurately) that had been piling up. Going to the post office, making a few phone calls, that sort of thing.
No one cares about any of that.
Chief among those errands, however, was getting my totally sweet bicycle back in working order.