I have been not looking forward to this and whinging, but also looking forward to having done it. My agreeance to subject myself to this torture amused me and I felt I would deserve the pain.
I slept in. Flung myself from bed at 6:24 fed cats, grabbed clothes and without stopping to brush teeth lept aboard bike and took off. The cats were bewildered and scared at this strange aberation from routine.
I get to end of street and realise it is rubbish collection day and that I have a full (and stinking) bin that I have forgotten to put out.
Cursing I return, deposit bin on kerb at sprint, bound aboard bike again and wobble off for my 6 kilometre ride to work. Don't even get to end of street. Am changing gears and the chain comes off. I haven't ridden regularly since high school which is a good twenty-five years ago. Cudgel brain for how to do this again. Vague memory of it being relatively straightforward. Chain is jammed between cog and bike frame. I pull. I tug. I put foot to frame and lean back with my sadly considerable weight. It does not budge. My hands are black with grease.
I walk bike home. I see if I can lever chain out with spoon lying on outdoor table. Spoon bends.
Contemplate faking car accident by flinging myself from top of stairs, but live in lowset house.
Scooter to work and go have breakfast at cafe and console myself with loose leaf tea, whilst shuddering inwardly at the thought that I am probably going to have to ride to work for a week to prove to my co-workers that I am not a piker.
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