Squeezing One & Leaving

I was breezing through some work today, having fun getting some pics set for the next XXC Magazine (due out in about two weeks), when I thought about going for a short ride. I wanted, needed, lusted a ride and the furnace guy (the one coming to tell me I need a new one for the house I'm moving out of), wasn't coming for another 2 plus hours, so maybe it would be possible!!

PFFFFFFT, RIGHT!

2 seconds after the thought entered my mind I got a call from some random Real Estate Overlord instructing me to look for a 6 year old document. I had no idea what I was looking for or where it might be. It took 25 minutes, several e mails and a pinch of mania, but I found it and got the info out to Wifey and the Real Estate Overlords. Did I mention that earlier in the day I was picking through garbage in my garage to find a different paper I thought I threw out? No? Well I was. Turns out it was packed in a box in my office that I made just for papers NOT to throw out) Then as I started to relax the movers call, etc., etc., etc.,

FINALLY I can ride. Ah, no, no, no not really. I'd never get back in time for the furnace guy (the one coming to tell me I need a new one for the house I'm moving out of) Damn!! Like a pent up blue balled high school kid on prom night I needed to do SOMETHING to release the stress, so I chamoised up and busted out a 40 minute TT on the trainer. Yeah, I know it was 50 and sunny and I was on the trainer. I felt like an idiot for doing it, but it did feel damn good to get the legs moving and get a sweat on.

15 minutes after I finished, the phone rang, it was the furnace guy (the one coming to tell me I need a new one for the house I'm moving out of) he was on his way and should be at the house in 5 minutes. Wow! Way to be 2 hours early. And THAT is why I rode the freaking trainer on a nice fall day. Because for the last 3 weeks if shit can happen, it WILL happen, and by shit I mean crap, and by crap I mean the shit that f*cks up a ride.


My advice to anyone who will listen- Never buy a house, never sell a house, hell if you can live in a Unabomber-esque hump shack (seen above in FBI custody) in the woods and ride your bike and never deal with a furnace guy (the one coming to tell me I need a new one for the house I'm moving out of).

On THAT note, the blog will be on hold 'till next week most likely when I will commence broadcasting from the Wolverine State. Thanks Pennsylvania, it's been pretty darn OK.

Later.