In a near-criminal move, I drove to work today. Why criminal? It is absolutely beautiful out and will be no warmer than 21 degrees Celsius today. Essentially, it’s the perfect Icelandic summer’s day, which suits me just fine.
Ironically, I had to drive today because I’m picking up my first CSA order on the way home from work – sustainability and supporting local agriculture through driving more, wahey!
Truth be told, I could probably do it in on a bike, but I really need to assess the size of a ‘basic’ order before I commit to trying to cram one into my shopping panniers (which I despise for long rides, so taking them to work is kind of a pain). I’ll know after today, obviously, if that can be done in future.
That having been said, should I have the attitude of ‘Well, I bike about 90% of the time, so I needn’t feel guilty about driving’? Probably. Maybe. It’s not even environmental guilt, really, but a selfish guilt; I didn’t bike today, which is time I (mostly) enjoy. It’s beautiful out. I would have taken the long route along the Quebec side of the river if I could have. That was time for me, dammit.
(Of course, I’m a single person with a small circle of friends who really has a stonking amount of ‘me time’, so what the hell right do I have to complain?)
But then, my hip has been giving me grief since Sunday, so maybe a 12km bike ride first thing in the morning would have been unwise. Have I mentioned that I’m supposed to be doing yoga at least once a week, chiropractor’s orders? And that dragon boat is incredibly hard on one’s body? Here’s what a race looks like:
(Well, the race itself starts at the 13 minute mark. That’s me in the light green lifejacket, showing exceedingly bad form for a veteran, because my neck was seizing up and I had not long before been napping under a tree.)
I did go to the chiropractor this morning, but saw a different doctor (yes, they are doctors, even if they aren’t MDs) than usual. My back and hips were very, very tight and reluctant to be adjusted, but I still felt a rush from a lot of the manipulations, which is a good sign. And then I went and had breakfast in the Glebe, then bought some pricey cheese and tea and baguette and other nice things for lunches this week.
So I spoiled myself differently, but still had regrets because the sky looks like an inspirational postcard a Bible shop might sell. I hope this lasts until I get off work so that I get a chance to enjoy it. In the meantime, I get to stare blankly into the Excel abyss and try to decipher what the hell this weekend’s managers were talking about on their box office sheets. Another glamourous day in show business.
Taking a break from attempting to write in-depthedly about women in comedy (which has been a big old fail, as I fall down YouTube rabbit holes instead of, y’know, writing), but here is Sarah Millican, who should be internationally famous, as far as I’m concerned. I saw her in Edinburgh in 2008 (the year she won Best Newcomer) as part of an Amnesty International gala gig, but because she was so brilliant, her own shows were all sold out. She had never done stand-up until a couple of years before. She’s marvelous.