Five days ago I last rode my bike. Instead, I have worked sixty hours at my day job – writing code. More than passion, it’s an obsession. Maybe I write good code. Maybe my old buds at Microsoft would say it sucks. Anyway, my bike misses me.
Mornings I wake up tired. Several cups of Italian roasted French press coffee turns tired to buzzed. Martha asks a simple question about what’s for supper and I respond with the look. Twelve hours after that first cup of coffee she finds me emerging from my cave. A glaze that feels like stale applesauce covers me from head to toe. Drink beer, eat supper, go to bed. Wake up at 3am, new day begins.
Promise: tomorrow I’ll ride my bike.