My bicycle is slowly disappearing. Or should I say, it’s slowly being stolen. I may have mentioned before that I live in a tiny studio in Atlanta. There is no room inside for my bike, so I have it secured (or I did) to the railing on my equally miniscule porch. I’m not completely naïve (just a little), so I took off the front tire when I left it out there, to discourage theft. Within a month, the other tire had walked away with a new owner. I looked out on my porch one day and thought, “Something weird is going on…” It was like strange déjà vu where you know there’s an item out of place, or the wall got painted, or maybe a new knickknack has entered the space. But no, I just noticed that the other wheel was missing. The nuts and screw were scattered all around the rest of the bike, and I was left with one wheel.
As you can imagine, I haven’t ridden the bike since. It’s a girly, sea green, beach-type bike that was really useful in Gainesville (former place of residence), where they have nice and prolific bike lanes. Here in Atlanta, not so much. I would trust riding a bike about as much as I trust my Chinese scooter, which is why I walk or bus everywhere these days. But anyway, to get on with the story…Since the theft of the wheel (the one I have left is sitting in my kitchen behind the trash can), my bike has continued to live on the porch. I had speculated, back when they took the wheel, as to why they hadn’t absconded with the seat as well: it’s the only other easily detachable part. Well, yesterday they (or whoever this is) did. I came home from the grocery store, slid a cursory glance over the porch…and did a double take. It’s just the frame sitting out there now…and I’m not sure if even that is safe. I mean, I live off the street, in a converted private home. Is bicycle theft rife in this neighborhood? Or is it all an extended prank that I’m not privy to? In any case, space or not, the frame may have to come live indoors.
The other bit of misfortune from yesterday is the trial of the cat and the key. My friend Sean adopted a cat from a local shelter back at the start of the semester, and prompted my own pet buying adventure, which I’ve written about previously. I digress. He is out of town this week, and recruited two of us to split the week and look over Queen Elizabeth II (that’s the cat’s name, people). I had the Thursday to Sunday watch. I didn’t get over to his place to take care of the cat on Thursday (this is an every other day commitment, don’t worry), and went only for a few minutes yesterday, because I had a lot of things to do. Elizabeth, the other cat-sitter, had left me the key in my box at school. I, not thinking, returned the key to the box after looking after QEII, thinking that when I came back today, I’d just nab it again, and have the incentive to go to campus and work, etc. I forgot that the office where the box is is only open M-F, 8am-5pm. I remembered conveniently at 10pm. And panicked accordingly. Freaked out, had a conniption, felt like I would drown in guilt…all those are good descriptors. So I called the other cat-sitter, explained my tale of woe and mishap, and she promised to help me figure out how to get the key this morning. Perhaps we will waylay an unsuspecting professor. Or…
Yeah. So, two messes today, one completely my fault (I excel at this type), and the other circumstantial and stupid. Silly mistakes, unlucky events, things you’ll laugh at later…these are what my life is made up of. So I'll tell myself a platitude: it'll turn out right in the end.