Killing Bikinis in Winter

Today is my second-to-last weekday of unemployment, and it is 50 degrees out, so I went for a bike ride. I anticipated that the trail might be too snowy and I would not get my ride, and it was, and it was much muddier than I expected, but I rode a little anyway. I rode for 20 minutes, and I spent another 10 minutes brushing the worst of the sand and limestone off my bicycle. I would have gone longer, but the snowy parts were extremely bumpy, and I didn't want to trash my little hybrid bike, which is not the sturdiest thing in the world. I can't keep the front wheel tuned to save my life. At least the guy who sold it to me occasionally tunes the wheel for free, which makes me like him even though I told him I wanted a mountain bike, and he talked me into a hybrid bike instead.

When I can afford it, I will probably order my mountain bike through him, explaining to him in detail why it is that my fancypants shoes, which I insist on wearing when I am not riding or hiking, do not mean that I need a wimpy bicycle.

I am thrilled with my new job. I signed the contract yesterday. It is customary to celebrate these sorts of events with champagne, but I have recently been dumped and am still in the phase of listening to too much Bikini Kill. (I'd offer illustrative lyrics, but this is a polite blog.) Therefore, I bought something that is at once celebratory, consoling, and somewhat badly needed: a new pair of black leather shoes with silver metal buckles. My ideal shoe is a steel-toed black leather motorcycle boot covered in superfluous buckles, but I realize that it would create the wrong impression, so I content myself with snazzy women's low-heeled dress shoes accented with buckles.

I will be apartment hunting tomorrow, but I hope to find time to describe how Magdalena gets her own job.