Today we sleep in, and I feel a little bad because my guests are back at my place and have to find breakfast for themselves. Who am I kidding? My guests are just fine, like I knew they'd be. There is lots of food they make breakfast and take off to deliver Jared's bike to his place. Ceri goes off to explore new wheel options for my bike and I walk back and meet up with the gals. Later, we all go for a walk in the Harbourfront, shop the pretty scarves and fabric arts, eat some roasted corn from the One Love Corn Soup guy, and have a Caesar and watch the tourists.
After Deb and Mary Jane get on the road to go home, my lovely main man and I go bike shopping. Turns out my old wheel is not so easily replaced, and it's more financially feasible to buy a new one on sale. I decide on this terrifically maneuverable new ride; it feels great to be rolling again. Ceri provides me with sufficient locking up hardware to ensure neither tires nor seat nor frame will be robbed without big effort and bigger tools under that big light I'm parking it under.
It's been a stellar weekend.
This morning I walk out to go to the office, I round the corner of my building, putting on my helmet and the thingy that stops my pant legs from getting caught in the chain. I turn to unlock my bike and I find it sitting there minus the rear wheel. Crippled.
I'm shocked and not shocked. Sad. Angry. It feels awful to be robbed. You feel violated and helpless. Explosed.
I stomp off to work on my other vehicle: my feet. I'm grouchy today.
I go to the art gallery after work with Ceri and that cheers me up. Walking home later I'm carrying some thin hope that maybe I was seeing things; it wasn't MY bike I'd seen this morning. I look at the spot and there it is. My bike. Crippled.
I'm not so patient when it comes to life's inconveniences. And I know, in the mind of the thief, it's got nothing to do with me; but in my mind it's all about me and I can't stop thinking about the lurking tire predator, laughing at me; challenging me to fix it.