It’s not always about bicycles

I have about eight things pending in my life right now and it’s driving me nuts. This must be what the polar bears feel like when they can’t find an iceberg to land on because they’re all melting from global warming.

On second thought, maybe things aren’t that bad.

One of the things, though, is that I’m at risk of losing my hidey-hole – the place I go to five days a week to write. My landlord – whom I will call Spiderhead to protect his anonymity -- is rumbling about raising the rent.

(While he was talking to me a spider lowered itself down from the rafters and landed in his hair. Normally I would say something, but in this case it seemed so appropriate. What spider wouldn’t want to live there? Prime real estate for the arachnid crowd. No threat of water or comb attacks. So now I know for a FACT there are spiders living there. Hence the name.)

Negotiations are in progress.