I’ve been biking to work lately. It’s a great use of the extra hours of sunlight, and also a good, no stress way to get healthy. The best part of it is that on my way home, I can pick flowers. These are for my mother, and I pick them for her out of the goodness of my heart.
But anyone who knows me knows that this is absolute bullshit. I pick flowers to get on her good side. Lord knows I need to be.
There is one condition to the flower picking, she is not allowed to question where I found the flowers. No, I don’t have a god complex. It’s just better that she not know. Sometimes they’re from the pathway through the sewer ponds, which are exactly what they sound like but worse. And sometimes they’re from our neighbor’s fence-line. And it’s not really stealing, because they’re never at home. (That sounded like a good reason in my head).
The other great thing about biking is that around this time of year, the culverts become relative buffets. There are plum trees and blackberry bushes everywhere. Sure there’s a little dust coating the fruits, but I’m a country girl. Little bit of dirt never harm anybody.
And you know, I’m doing my part for the environment, too. My gas-guzzling station wagon gets to stay at its most stationary while I work my butt off. Biking to work is a win-win situation all around.
So my duh moment was last evening leaving work, when I panicked because I couldn’t find my car keys.