Racked by the bike
As I lay on my back in the crushed stone of the driveway, an adjustable wrench in hand, I remembered. The reason why our bicycle rack tended to remain in the back of the garage was that it was such a beast to install. Or use. We had to bring the electric bike into the city for service, and my offer to put it in the rear of the Rogue had been politely refused. It would ride in style, or not at all. And so I persevered, and the delivery went without a hitch (due to the hitch). There’s a lesson in there, I think.
With our busy work out of the way, I spotted a pharmacy, just across the way. Thanks to the new, open-minded plan of our provincial department of health, I went in, completed a questionnaire and received my annual flu shot with nothing more than a tiny pinch on my arm. I hope the formula is appropriate, and that I’ll come through to the other side of winter without any sick time.
Now to consider the need for shingles. Not on the roof; got that covered. The other type, which is reported to be painful should “it” flare up. You see, I had the dreaded chicken pox, like so many of my peers. At an age when calamine lotion and uncontrollable itching seemed funny. A lifetime later, the vaccine might be the answer to a question I hadn’t asked, previously.
We were home while the day was still in progress, and I’m now wondering if the purchases of shower valve and faucets will be judges as positive, this time next year. Pfister…
This evening, after one thousand consecutive days, I completed the final exercise in my Duolingo app.
