A small sugar cube dissolves slowly in my mouth. It is cloyingly sweet first thing in the morning.
I wait impatiently for the office Nespresso machine to brew my wake-up juice. At times, it sounds like the machine wants to take off on a solo flight mission. Maybe that’s just my own counter-transference.
I’ve been on the trainer for an hour already this morning, and still, my brain has not started firing. Trainer cycling requires little brain power. I just watch the clock and shift gears and cadences at various intervals according to the training schedule prescribed to me. Some days are power efforts, some days endurance efforts. Today was a little bit of both. In the background is a playlist made by some local guys who make bike pants. I own a pair of their pants and they are spectacular, in part because they have good sized pockets in the right places with zippers that work well and a stretchy waistband. My theory is that the pants are great because they are unisex. All the bike pants made for specifically women are too tight with stupid pockets. Explain this, universe.
The playlist has some good songs for video soundtracks, and some songs that just sound like noise. It doesn’t matter.
The coffee is strong. Bitter. A deep abyss of warmth in my black mug. The mug is branded by a financial management company that caters only to physicians. It is a terrible company, banking on the fact that most physicians know nothing about investing. I pulled my money out over a decade ago. I still know very little about investing.
My electronic medical records system has locked me out this morning. With an increasing dependency on computers and electronic systems, I am rendered wholly useless every time the internet goes down, or there is a power outage, or when the program decides to lock me out. I have to wait for “administrators” to show up at work, which will be nearly two hours after I’ve started my work day.
Inefficiency drives me mad.
I had intended to review three large files this morning, because tomorrow afternoon, I have a trial prep meeting with a lawyer and I have to have reviewed them before then. Instead, I am here, trying to expel the negative humours in word form. I want to ride my bike tomorrow, because it’s been four days off my proper bike, and the restless, cranky feeling that wells up in my chest and makes my legs feel tight is palpable.
Is this akin to withdrawal? Maybe.
I just sneezed into my mask.
I’d really like to be outside right now.
But here we are. One more sugar cube before the first person gets here. Cue violin symphony.
Bikes, Brains, and other Musings 