|The normal flow changes when the traffic lights become non-functional|
Fine, I said, keep it, it's yours, I have plenty, just don't eat* it. Return to bike area, get another valve cap, return to bike, pump up tire, install alternative valve cap, take Airbase Pro pump back to bicycle area. Return to bike. Find cat staring intently at the new valve cap, wearing EXACTLY the expression, "Why is your valve making that soft yet distinct hissing sound just slightly too quiet for your abused human ears to make out but plenty loud for my sensitive cat ears to hear?" Great.
He gives me a look. His look says, "I have concerns about you riding off on this quietly hissing thing. Perhaps you would prefer to just stay home on Monday. We could bat valve caps across the floor and all around the house. Perhaps we might eat some."
|I think it's a Christmas tree installation|
Ride around the mess worked marginally better than riding through the mess, but still required a zig-zag two block detour to slurp around the back end of the disturbed mass of crawling drivers of disrupted routine. I thought I might never get around, but of course that's just a dire exaggeration, because just a few moments of patience and perseverance got me around and across, and put the micro-jam behind me.
I felt Monday breathing down my neck, but I did not look him in the eye. Instead, I left Monday in my dust. Monday can't see me, and the tire held just fine.
*I briefly considered not telling my wife, the cat lady, about this incident, since I immediately had fears of what a cat endoscopy might cost. Then I doubled that.