"Did I not write this already?" he asked miself, upon remembering that he did not in fact write this already. "Should I try some lame conceit in which I write in the third person and then primarily only about the process of writing the blog post and totally in a way which manages to elide writing the blog post itself?"
"No, that would be terrible," he thought.
Pennsylvania Avenue to coffee and from coffee G Street and I think after that, as far as I can remember, it was upon Wisconsin Avenue until Massachusetts and from there down to work. I like G Street a lot and wish it had a bike lane. There's no reason it shouldn't. "While I do see dead people, I don't see bike lanes"- The Sixth Sense II: the Cat 6th Sense.
It was a different route home because I had a work obligation in Adams Morgan and that took me across Garfield and Cleveland and Calvert. Before that, I rode up Cathedral from New Mexico, I think for the first (and last) time. For one, the street is on an unforgiving hill, made more unforgiving by the lack of bicycle accommodation and the willingness of drivers to also not accommodate bicyclists. And for two, I don't really have a two, but maybe T.S. Eliot does. "Don't cry, don't raise your eye"- Mr. Mistoffelees, in youth.
After my work obligation, I rode down 18th Street on a Friday night and hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. I'm not laughing from funny. I'm laughing because it has sharrows. Replace sharrows with chalk outlines.
I took 18th the whole way downtown to L probably (I can't recall) and eventually made my way home. It was a muggy night. I remember the sweat.