So I am humming as I ride my bicycle across Girard Avenue, wearing my helmet and a hoodie and looking like a total dweeb, when Flandria, aka not so much the best bike ever, decides that it's time to fail. Pop! goes the chain. Off! flies my shoe. And down she goes. but not before the chain and/or cog teeth gouge the hell out of my right foot.
So on my way to execute the studio revelation outlined here:
which I am ridiculously eager to do and excited about (I know you can't read it. That's part of the suspense.)
I instead end up creating this beauty:
And ruined the one decent hoodie I own:
And now perched on the couch unable to wear shoes so I can't go anywhere. Dirty Dirty City.
And I swear, that's after I've been cleaned up...those wounds are nice and deep.
And I'm attending a fancy wedding on Sunday. Thank you awesome timing!
At least I can use up some of the sick days I've been accumulating at work.
P.S. I'll bet that Flandria is getting revenge on me for the graffiti.
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