Monday, Monday

"Monday, Monday, can't trust that day. Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way. Oh, Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be."

Oh, actually you did, when I put my hand through the plastic bag when walking the dog this morning. Nevermind.

After coming home and scrubbing my hands for about 35 minutes, I got on my bike, rode down 42nd Street to 42nd Avenue, followed a truck through the green light, and ran over something that popped my rear tire.

Since I got a lot of practice changing this tire on the 4th of July, I wasn't too bummed to get that sucker changed in no time at all. Tire off, old tube off, new tube on, tire on, and... my pump, which stinks, was not cooperating. I pumped, and pumped, and pumped. It was hard to get a good seal because I have a screw-on adapter for my Shrader (sp?) valve pump to work on my presta valve tires. I pumped some more. I tried to have a Zen-like attitude. I pumped. For a long time.

And then a guy across the street opened his garage and I yelled across, asking if he had a floor pump. Indeed.

I got it pumped up, rode home, showered (had planned on doing that at work), and went to the bike shop. Today's purchases? A delicious, large latte, two spare tubes, one new Continental Gatorskin tire, and one fabulous, small hand pump made for presta valves.

I could have real problems.

And as a bonus, I got to answer all of the bike mechanic's questions about how the TRAM went, and think again about what a great week that was, and then spent some peaceful time tonight in the garage, putting on my new tire, cleaning my chain up, etc.

Monday, Monday... So good to me?