Eight nineteen

Last night was pleasant. When there is nothing pressing, I can sometimes do just about anything. I worked on my military paper (soon to come) till 9 at CVCC, read another chapter out of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance over at Barnes and Noble, then returned home for the evening. Thankfully, I had not driven my new (1985) Honda 700 Interceptor that night, for it was frigid. I hopped in the Tahoe and began to think of bed. Well, that didn't happen. I got home and decided to change the plugs on the Interceptor. One thing led to another, and soon it was 3 am. I had explored many parts of bike, painted a couple rust spots, broke a bolt clean off that holds the front part of the tank on, and arranged a small tool kit for the trip this weekend to Florida. Washing my hands upstairs, I decided to clean the bathroom sink. Since I had the Scrubbing Bubbles out, the bathtub needed washing also. I had just finished shaving and needed a shower, so I scrubbed the tub. It was 4:30 before I hit the sack. But no problem, I could sleep in, or so I thought. At 8:19, Laura, my boss, calls to wonder if I'm coming in to work. What? Crap, I was supposed to sub for Karen this morning. I tell Laura I'll be right in. So there it is. What a great night it was, and now it is a great day.