I've been in a bit of a funk lately. And not the good kind of funk with George Clinton and some kind of parliamentary spaceship. "Point of order, Bootsy Collins lacks a quorum" or something. My funk coincides with the colder weather, but I don't think the weather caused it. I don't necessarily mind the cold (tip for riding in the cold: wear more clothes. that's all) and there is something refreshing about it, at least at the beginning of the season.
East Capitol, past the Capitol and up Pennsylvania Avenue where in the morning DDOT has not yet paved the unpaved patch of yet which they did pave by the time I rode it again in the evening. Progress! It'd been torn up since August in what I thought might have been an homage to 19th century America, but turned out to just be ______ (I'm not totally sure what). I'd probably watch a tv show about a detective who investigates delays in paving projects, but I don't anyone else would, so it'd probably be a good idea if they aired it on NBC. Maybe it'd be called Macadam, after the titular hardscrabble detective who would get to the bottom of the paving delay mysteries. Someone green light this!
Got shoaled by no fewer than 7 cyclists at 22nd and M. Nice to see so many people biking on a cold day. Yup. I'll let that by my takeaway and not 'sure was neat when I rode past 5 of you a block later and caught up to the other 2 at the next red light.' It's not the biggest annoyance in the world- it's barely even one of the smallest- but I think with shoaling- such as it is- the onus should be on the shoaler to justify the behavior and not on me to be forced to repudiate it. I stand upon the shoulders of thousands of years of queue culture. I am assured in my certitude. I guess that's what makes it certitude. (Certitude is also the name of what one feels after popping a breath mint).
There's something delightful in the obliviousness of a cyclist who stops on red in a right turn lane and has no idea that perhaps the driver waiting behind him or her in that lane wants to turn right, as the lane suggests. There's just something delightful about obliviousness in general. I mean, sure it's annoying and surely there are better ways to go through the world than one without any cognizance of what's going on in the world around you. But still definitely delightful.
Got a craving for a savory scone at the top of the hill by the National Cathedral and I rode down Cathedral towards where is now a defunct Canadian bakery (they sold savory scones. They closed. I hadn't been for many months. Maybe no one else did either). I kept on #savorysconequest2014 and headed up the hill to Wagshal's, a deli/bakery/grocery store and they also don't sell savory scones. Then I rode to work. Thus concludes my story about how I didn't buy a savory scone. "Cool story, bro," says no one.
Like most days, I also rode my bicycle home. Massachusetts to 23rd, where at P the driver of a van pulled a hilarious 'lemme just slam on my brakes like I'm about to miss my turn, no, wait, never mind, haha, I'll just keep going' maneuver and boy did I chuckle.
Regular route the rest of the way, including to the grocery store. The night was crisp.