Rocket rules

I rode my electric bike to work yesterday, since the central train station was shut down and there was much fun and games with replacement buses promised. It's just over 10K each way. First, I'm okay, bit achy but moving and I'll be riding again today, just a trip to the shops. I had hoped to see chaos along the route but was disappointed. I think a lot of people just found other ways to move, as the trains and buses I did see were nothing like as full as they normally are. Quite a few bike commuters, this time too busy to give Rocket any grief for being an electric bike.

I find it ideal; was in much better shape than I would've been on the mountain bike. As in perspiration and general grossness. Haven't figured out quite how to manage the clothes change thing when it is not a casual day, but when it is, all one need carry is smalls and a clean t-shirt.

I got much encouragement from workmates in the form of, "Good luck!" and "Hope you get home!" when I was leaving. [shakes head] Why do I get this? I'm forever having people think I can't look after myself. Certainly I could not stand up to multiple muggers but running away is always an excellent strategy. I saved the $6 for using the train but then was so hungry I ate an entire pizza after getting home. Well, most of it. I bribed the rats with one piece to leave me alone while I ate the rest.

The Saturday wrap up

Reasonable day; good weather, got housework-stuff done. Contemplated last night's dream which featured me digging some big holes in a garden to bury bodies. I'm not sure why it got to be my job. The bones (I believe they were reduced to bones) had been stored in a shed and I didn't think it was safe, but still, some of the other residents could've given me a hand. What never came up was who had done the murders and why didn't it bother any of us?

I spend a lot of time thinking, though usually when I come to post online, I've forgotten what the deep thoughts were. I know I woke up the morning after Eucador granted Assange asylum, having dreamed of airships departing from the top of a building, so there, I've solved the problem. I believe the guy is a complete prat, btw, but not that he's guilty of the sexual assault charges. Hero, no. Rapist, also no, but facing those charges would mean exposure to extradition by a power which holds grudges.

Western Power have planted a tall silver pole to one side of my garden to improve what they see as deficiencies in the current setup. I'm now considering decoration possibilities.

In one of my Scrabble games, I have seven vowels and there's nothing left in the bag, so I can't exchange them. That's surely symbolic of something, but right now I need to go do rat room service and hope for something to entertain me tomorrow. Don't like my chances. With the trains off for part of their routes and non-connecting buses replacing them, Sunday travel is almost nineteenth-century speed at the moment.