I’ve been itching to get out on a bike tour. Any tour. No matter how un-scenic and miserable and soul-robbing. I’m on a bike every day, but I’ve just been feeling the need to throw another 60 lbs of stuff on it and ride it till I’m exhausted.
So I thought I’d have my co-workers drop me off with my bike around Fort Valley on the way back from a work trip to Tampa, and then spend a couple days getting home.
I broach the idea with Becky. She raises an eyebrow, “on the week of our anniversary?, really?” Oh, gentle reader, did I not mention that part? It’s just our 37th, which is like the gypsum anniversary. Or maybe cardboard. Sensing the need to backtrack, and quickly, I tell her, “That’s OK, this wasn’t a high priority. With the short days it would have been a cold and dark and lonely trip anyway.”
“In that case”, Becky says, “you should go. In fact, I insist. As punishment for coming up with the d*mb*ss idea of going on a bike trip on your anniversary.”
Well she eventually relented. So now I don’t have to go bike touring in December and sit through 15hr nights in the dark. A good wife helps you keep things in their proper perspective.
You younger women out there – you see how that works?