I got in from a bike ride about two minutes ago, and am, as a matter of routine, lying under my ceiling fan in kind of a haze.
I never can decide of I like to go bike riding. It’s a six of one, half dozen of the other kind of argument. Obviously I love the downhill half of the ride. A fierce breeze blowing through my ponytail and rushing past my ears. It’s a great feeling. But the uphill is torture. That may be a melodramatic statement, but really, what’s so great up there? Why do I have to get there so darn fast? The feeling of my knees about to commit mutiny just isn’t worth it. In our neighborhood, there is no in between. Or at least, very little. It’s very hilly. Which is great in a flood, considering where our house sits in the maze, but torturous on the knees.
It also depends on the destination. If it’s Scoops, the nearby ice cream shop, then bike riding it the best idea ever, not only is there the promise of ice cream, it’s a fairly flat path from our house. You do have to cross the street several times, but that can easily be overlooked. On the other hand, if it’s to circle our neighborhood, the appeal is merely the downhill half of the ride, and spending time with my dad. So I almost always go. I suppose there’s also the appeal of exercise, oh who am I kidding. That almost falls on the negative list.
That’s really all I did today, school doesn’t count. It never does. I did go to a few places with my sister though, and that was fun. We stocked up on yarn, as well as other less necessary items, like nail polish remover and breath mints. Wow. What an exciting life I lead, she says her voice dripping with sarcasm. Once I start narrating my thoughts, I know it’s time to sign out. This has been the random writings of Leila. Thanks for tuning in!