A journal of questionable quality

Thursday, December 06, 2007

my week was better than yours

life my way


Monday Mondays are special. The weekend work is over and the poor bastards that have to do a 9-5 job are staggering off to their jobs.
I have major decisions; will the weather hold long enough for me to get a few kilometres in on the revered bike? (This week Monday was a 70 klm ride), or will i be forced to check into the local heated and undercover pool for a splash about?


Tuesday Tuesday - waking a bit sore from an extended biking session. Weather check. No rain. Variable winds.

Murrarie Recreational - a huge tract of land that sits alone in a near city suburb, flat topped, grassy and exposed to wind all round.

The buggy is out today. Car unpacked - all the cleaning gear belongs to a different personality, this bloke swaps it all for buggy and kites, sunscreen and harnesses.

A serious few hours practicing the finer points of being able to stay in the buggy even when the kite would like to pull you out.

Home. Relaxed. Sunburned. Sore. Happy. Car packed with cleaning gear - I'm back in my work personage.

Wednesday Wednesday morning  with dual punishment; bike on Monday and buggy yesterday. Legs sore from fighting the sideways pull of the buggy.

Brain sunburned from constantly forgetting it's part of my body. A ride is in order just to free things up.

Bike prepped, cranked out 50 klm. Easy. Hot, but easy. More sunburn. Damn.


An early evening wallkthrough of one weekend job - they produce rubbish on a semi professional scale I suspect.

Thursday Thursday is now you fools - why would I write about it now?
But I do.
Yvonne out. Shopping with friend. House would be perfectly silent other than the groaning of eldest son who seems to have managed to perfect the art of sniffing and talking at the same time. Mr Lethargy. Mr Cool.
I remember when I was 18. I don't think I had as much to bitch about at that age, not at all. I seem to remember holding down two jobs and a woman called Penny. A redhead. Stunning girl. Reason enough for not bitching I reckon. I made a mistake and traded her in on a Debbie model. No warranty. Bad move.

I also remember breaking both my arms in a motorbike accident. I like to think I did it so all the 'I told you so's' would have something to crow about. Gangrene in my leg almost made me a monopod but good luck and an incredible surgeon took care of that problem.

Fact remains that to get anywhere he is really going to have to work more than nine hours in any given week. Or stop eating and push the car where you need to go.
 
Thursday looks like rain. I don't care. I've done the miles. Flown the kites. Rode the bike.

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