Saturday Fever

Years ago, we named the stink bugs John, thinking they were june bugs. John the June Bug rolled off the tongue; we have a naming scheme that requires alliteration, on top of a name that feels appropriate to the creature. Later, we found out that what we thought were june bugs were actually stink bugs, but it's not as if names can be so easily changed once they stick.

Despite the weather forecast calling for lows in the single digits in the near future, a few intrepid Johns have groggily crawled out from wherever they slept through the winter. One of them crossed the bedroom ceiling, after hours of slow six-footed tiptoes.

When I don't leave the house, I don't feel productive, regardless of what I've managed to do. Food for a week, seasonal bike tuning, laundry, ropework, cleaning, popping off podcast episodes all didn't mean anything until I set out for a test ride that also let me run some errands.

Eight o'clock at night seems far too late to be drinking coffee right now; I remember a time when it was never a bad time for more caffeine. Maybe that's what it means to get old.

22 February 2014 21:21