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When I was discharged from the hospital, on Thursday, May 28, I was very amused to hear, more than once, "no contact sports" for six weeks. Well, this also included bike riding. And I took it seriously: I even marked my calendar, "no bike riding," from then through Thursday, July 9.
And: that was yesterday. I rode my bike to work this morning, for the firt time since the crash on May 26. I'm using a newer helmet, and I did not have AirPods in. I was still slightly nervous, but it was fine.
Except for one thing: the pedaling keeps jerking forward over and over as I pedal. The guys at 20/20 Cycle had warned there might be something like this if I did not replace something—was it the cassette? I don't remember, but I'm going to have to take the bike back in to get this fixed. Either that or there's something else going on that they can fix. I can't keep riding the bike like this. I'm seeing a movie right after work and I'll probably just walk the bike home after that. Depending on when I need to leave for Tacoma Pride, I may take the bike in tomorrow morning when they open at 11:00. Barring that, I'll take it on on Sunday.
Side note: this week is almost over now, which means we leave for Amsterdam two weeks from tomorrow. People are asking more often now if I'm getting excited. That's an emphatic yes!
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As for last night, I spent pretty much all evening at Steamworks. My first time back since
April. Three months! It more likely would have been two months, if not for that damn bike accident. But I kind of figured sex might qualify in the same vein as "contact sports." I probably shouldn't get my back blown out if I'm still in chronic pain. Not that I got my back blown out last night. It still would have difficult until my pains finally stopped completely about a week and a half ago.
I was there longer than usual last night, four hours and 40 minutes. I usually keep it to a four-hour maximum, but things got a bit more exciting there near the end. My next bathhouse adventure will be far sooner, more like three weeks rather than three months. I fully intend to patronize the one gay bathhouse in Amsterdam. I want to fulfill my new dream of hooking up with a hot Dutch man. Granted, people from all over the world are likely to be in Amsterdam for World Pride, so whoever I hook up with could wind up being from anywhere. I hooked up with a guy at a Sydney bathouse in 2020 who was actually from Ireland. And a guy last night who was from France!
Okay, I'm revealing more details than usual here about the bathhouse. At least I'm not being explicit. The French man's name was Greg, which I thought at first sounded odd for French. But then I thought: "Greg" does sound a little bit like the sound a frog makes. Ha! Is that even offensive anymore? "Frog" has no malicious meaning to me because it's from a totally different place in a different era. I don't even have a clue what the etymology is when it comes to how it became a derogatory term. Google to the rescue! Ah. It apparently dates back to the 17th century and is a reference to French people eating frog legs as a delicacy. Interesting. Still seems pretty inocuous to me.
I didn't say any of this to Greg. In case you were wondering.
I was home at around 9:30. Shobhit had gone to an event of his own somewhere, but was home only minutes after I was. I made myself a veggie hot dog for dinner. My weight was stunningly down this morning, 167.3 lbs. That's 2.6 lbs! I'll be stunned if it's not back up again tomorrow. But I always weigh in lighter the morning after I go to Steamworks.
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[posted 12:32pm]
