It rained again this morning, and although the temperature is in the mid-twenties, it felt cold. So cold, in fact, that I wore a corduroy suit to work today, and didn’t faint from heat exhaustion ten feet from my front door. And the rain rained on, and the rain rained on us.
At lunchtime, I walked over to my bike shop and bought some new inner tubes so I could finish changing my tyres tonight. This evening I was unpleasantly surprised to find that the front axle of my bike was seized, or the bolt had been rounded off when it was last serviced a year ago, and in either case i can’t get the front wheel off. This is going to require the attention of a specialist, and possibly a new bolt if I ever want to be able to change the wheel myself. Oh, and the rear brake is gone again.
On the positive side, when I reinflated the rear tyre, it didn’t explode under the pressure, so I’m some way towards my new-and-improved transport of delights. Just not completely there yet. The journey is better than the destination. Supposedly.
Last night I didn’t sleep well, which is always super inconvenient when you’re knackered from running and need a proper rest. It wasn’t until I’d taken melatonin, thrashed around on the sofa and put on an old eye shade from a plane trip that I finally got to sleep. Six hours before I woke up again, and found that yesterday’s exercise had made me gain weight, not lose it.
Perhaps this feeling of cold is to do with being overtired. Or perhaps I have a cold. Neither of which are wonderful alternatives. And so, rather than stay up late and practicing my Spanish verb conjugations, I think I’ll have to try to sleep.