Two years ago when I was picking out components for my new bicycle, I had several seats to choose from: The Glide Rider, the Tush Cushion, and the Prostate Bombarder. For the life of me, I can’t remember why I made the choice I did.
But! Now that my job is gone my bus pass is gone, too, so out comes the bike. Yesterday was my first actual pedal ride to the gym (in the dark, ‘natch, because of the time change) and it felt more than a little like punishment. Too bad we’re in a recession or I’d pressure the city to repave those bike paths. Still, it’s good to have worked out (tense choice deliberate), and afterwards I was a couple blocks from my regular Starbucks and library, letting me to a little post-exercise writing. I even met my daily goal and returned home well before my wife had to leave for work.
The downside of all this is that yesterday, for the first time in years–and I wasn’t planning to talk about this, but I’m all about the honesty–I wore sweat pants outside my home.
Yeah, it’s true. Not even a week after I left my job and I’ve already surrendered to fashion lameness. By Christmas I expect to be lazing around the coffee shop all day wearing a green velour track suit with my face half-shaved because I got bored partway through. It’s inevitable.
I’m not online all that much, though. Sorry if I’m not commenting on your posts–I’m falling way behind in my reading.
Things are good. Today or tomorrow I’m hoping to have the boy snap a photo of me in my new home office dress code. I’m sure it would make my former co-workers burn with jealousy.
Mirrored from Twenty Palaces. You can comment here or there.