The 10 cent designer
New bike day. It was raining.
In the marvellous, immortal words of the utterly fabulous Shirelles “Mama said there’ll be days like this There’ll be days like this, my mama said (Mama said, mama said).”
All you see is floorboards. You are definitely not seeing open roads from that sparkling new bike. The sparkling new bike that you treated yourself to because you truly deserve something special to bring you joy. You truly deserve something special to bring you joy because you are a fundamentally good person and this has been a fundamentally goddamn heinously dreadful year. A goddamn heinously dreadful year which would be improved by some carefully focused retail euphoria followed up by your body releasing endorphins through exercise on that sparkling new bike. Endorphins interacting with the receptors in your brain as, inhaling pure sunshine, peddling steadily, you crest the first hill, and feel a caressing breeze tug through your hair, as all the glory of nature, and the absolute adrenaline rush of speed surge through you; but instead there’s floorboards.
Anyhow according to the Shirelles’ song Mama said that there’ll be days like this, and the song never said how many.
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