FINALLY!

Today, I finally gave up on the possibility of the keys for my bike lock ever showing up. I called a locksmith and we went down into the creepy basement where my bike has been held hostage. The locksmith dude (and yes, he was a "dude" - there is no better way to describe the man) had a HUGE set of wirecutters (or the steroid-affected version thereof) and, after some exertion and grunting and straining, the bike was freed! It is now sipping margaritas at a bike shop while they address the last 1.5 years of neglect. Then it will go on a tour of France, just like Ingrid Betancourt. Okay, I just made that last part up.

After dropping my bike off at the spa, I found I could no longer ignore all the dirt in my car. Most of it was gravel and such tracked in by myself or friends after hiking. I'd been procrastinating cleaning but today I paid someone to vacuum my car for me. And it was worth. every. penny.