Saturday, March 10, 2012

bring out your dead

An internet tantrum I will later excuse as febrile
Or, Snap, Crackle, and Pop

I had assumed that for getting slightly optimistic about PT and the prospect of riding bikes I would be punished with bad weather; instead I have been punished with phenomenal weather in combination with easily the worst (certainly the longest and slowest) flu I've ever had, the kind of garbage I'm pretty sure killed people in pre-industrial peat villages. I learned last year that I have to rest, or else. And that after that I have to ease back in to any worthwhile use of time slowly, or else. I know. I know! What's another month? Long game, right?

Wrong! Are you kidding me? I'm the type of person who hits "cancel" on the microwave with three seconds to go because I can't wait for dinner. I listen to podcasts at double-speed. I have been reduced to tears by an attempted explanation of the rules to Risk1. I demand the kind of extra-instant gratification found in bubble wrap and trampolines and opening those little tubes of Trader Joe's crescent rolls with a spoon2. I don't want to play the goddamn long game; I want to ride mountain bikes—NOWWW.

1. I can deal with Bananagrams, Taboo, Scattegories, Pictionary, or Twitch ("best ... described as, 'few rules, lots of action'"). That's seriously just about it.
2. Gets me every time!

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