But then, instead of feeling sorry for myself...

My roommate, Elaina, ended up coming home, which is rare. And then I proposed going on a lovely Sunday afternoon bike ride, which she accepted with enthusiasm--so off we went on an outing, which is ever rarer.

We rode down to the fruit stand about a mile from our house, and hunted for pumpkins while dreaming of making a garden of our small back porch. We went around sniffing fresh fruit, while she stuffed plump berries in her mouth, encouraging me to do the same. But alas, being the prude I am, I felt so guilty sneaking a grape into my parched little mouth that I resisted further fruit enticements from the Devil (aka-my roommate). I was certain God would strike me down under a mountain of melons--the only fair punishment for as horrendous a crime as 'grape sneakery'.

Of course after all this biking and fruiting, nothing is as appealing as taking advantage of Starbucks' "yes, we'll give you anything you want even if you're totally ripping us off because we have to kiss your ass because were a multimillion dollar corporation who thrives off idiots that do pay us 5$ for a latte". And so we set off for free water, free pastry and frappacino samples, free restrooms, fluffy stuffed chairs and the cool, comfortable breeze of air conditioning. Hooray for capitalism that affords us all these free amenities. Its like stealing from a hotel.

Though we soon tired of this indoor splendor, and opted again for the free amenities of the outdoors. I showed her my secret dock on Lake Boren. We regretted our lack of forethought to bring swimsuits to indulge in the last of the 75 degree weather, and so bid our last swimming chance farewell. I'm sure next August the sun will come back, if were lucky.

We decided to stretch our adventure on, and headed toward the 'wood of abandoned vehicles', to contemplate which version of our made up horror stories could have been responsible for the car graveyard buried deep in the forest.

We continued on to try our hand at mountain biking. We wound down trails, through gravel, rocks, and tree roots to find the mystical "windsong" named by dusty signs pointing onward. We made it a number of miles without too many major disasters, to a great stair. We threw our bikes and packs onto our shoulders and heaved up the steep mountain, climbing each narrow stair with great care while wondering what mystery lay at the top. Finally, when I thought I could no longer climb, we made it to the top to glimpse all the glory of this fabled "Woodsong". And all it was was a crappy white trash neighborhood. All that way for nothing. Oh well, I'm sure our calves are better for it. But now we found ourselves a bit lost, and struggled a few miles to make it back home.

But all in all, it was great fun, all 4 hours of it. I don't think I could stand the next day (or better yet, sit).