My Patient Husband said that sometime later this week, he’s going to take a walk down the street from his job over to the bicycle store.
He says, “But I’m not going to buy anything. I’m pretty safe because I won’t have my car.”
I replied, “Dude, it’s a bicycle store. You could ride it back. They’ll assemble it for you.”
He pointed out that he’d have his car at work. I said he could ride the bike home and leave the car at work.
He said, “With my luck, it will be raining.”
This is about where I stepped out of Reality by the door marked EXIT. I said, “You could just bring it up to your office and stash it in the corner. And then keep looking at it. And looking at it. And looking — ”
By this point, we were both cracking up with laughter.
The scene: The CEO glances up from his work to see my Patient Husband, in bike pants and bike helmet and reflective shirt, sailing past his desk on his brand-new super-duper commuter-ready bike. Thinking, “Wha–?” the gentleman steps out from behind his desk and walks to the door, looking down the hallway just in time to see my Patient Husband, helmeted and crouched low over the handle-bars, doing another lap of the circumferential hallway around Angel Industries Building #1.
With any luck, I wouldn’t have to spend my energies after that worrying about my husband commuting via bike. At least not to that particular place of employment.
Or maybe that’s one of the sanest things going on there. “Do you know,” said my Patient Husband, “what they were doing in the hallway on Wednesday?”
This past week was crunch time for Angel Industries. So of course, the Patient Coworkers were all nose-to-the-grindstone, bucked down to industriously turn out Widgets and Thingamajaggies.
Right. Actually, what happened was that six of his co-workers took leave of their senses and were playing hall-hockey.
He named them off for me, so-and-so who actually plays hockey, and these other people whose names I know in passing, had somehow laid hold of a hall hockey set with knee-high goals and short hockey sticks, whacking a ball through the hallway right outside his door.
I didn’t ask if a fight broke out. I hope they can get hold of a few ramps, though, so my Patient Husband can launch over them after he acquires his bike.