Today, after working a good chunk of the day, I met Matt for a bike ride. We went from Mendota, through South St. Paul and Kaposia, to Inver Grove Heights, which I have a terrible time trying to pronounce, for some reason.
I was introduced to some scenic areas that I'll need to revisit, once I figure out where we were. One of those spots was a ride out on an old swing bridge (to nowhere, not anymore).
Riding along the Mississippi can be a little pungent due to dead, rotting fish and exposed mud. When riding, we saw some dessicated roadkill. About 5 miles later, I told Matt that I liked the route, and added, "The thing about this route, though, is that it smells like rotting animals." Matt pointed out that he earlier had run "over the head of an animal." It could've been a cat.
After we went our separate ways, I got stung by something that likely was on or near my seat. It necessitated this text to uber-neighbor Jen:
"Any chance you are home and can feed piper? Delayed on bike due to f!*#@ing bee sting in the a$$." I edited that for you, gentle readers.
Perhaps I should order a bee jersey like below, so that maybe whatever hymenoptera is obsessed with me will consider me friendly. But now I must rest. The Benadryl is in full effect.
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