Damp.

My father-in-law passed away after a brief-but-intense fight with pancreatic cancer. He had about enough time to get his affairs in order before the disease took him. Just like that, he's gone.

  

The house he leaves my Thai Buddhist monk mother-in-law is old and has its issues, issues that have been around for decades without being resolved and slowly getting worse. The bones are there, but some things weren't done right at the start and have festered. My father-in-law was more the "hire somebody to do it when I get around to it type". This is where I come in, I guess.

  

In the last couple days of his life and in a confused state, my father-in-law ripped away some packing tape that had been patching a hole in the shower surround. This had been this way for as long as my wife or her sister could remember. I held my tongue, went to Lowes, purchased what I needed, and replaced the broken panel. I tried really, really hard to ignore all the rest of the problems surrounding me. Really, the bathroom needs to be gutted and redone, floor to ceiling, 

  

When I was done, my mother-in-law called me MacGyver. This tickled my wife's funny bone, so she immediately started looking for other projects for me to do. he bathroom sink had been falling off the wall for years, so I was drafted to install a new vanity, sink, and faucet.I'm not a plumber or carpenter, but I was called MacGyver again and hilarity ensued. More projects were lined up for me, bandaids to cover what should be done by a professional.

  

It gave me something to do, as the rain was starting to get to me.

  

Eventually I gave up waiting it out and went for a ride. I chose the same route Chris Knott had shown me, and managed not to get lost. I did get very, very wet. Soaked to the bone wet. I just trudged on at my own pace, trying to enjoy the experience.

  

All things considered, I think I did. I certainly got the saddle time I so desperately needed, even I was a shadow of the rider I once was.

  

I got home, showered, threw all of the dirty cycling kit in the washing machine, and wolfed down two Costco hotdogs. As Anthony Bourdain said, "All my happiest moments seem to revolve around meat in tube form." I have yet to find a better salve for aching muscles, tight from a cold, wet ride than a well-timed hotdog. A roller dog from a random gas station has been transformational cuisine for me. This probably explains my current physique, but sometimes you just have to roll with what life throws you.

  

Tonight I'l go to bed early, knowing full well I'l be the one up at 4:00, 5:00, and 6:00 AM with the puppies. That is, if they let me sleep that long. They're puppies, and that's what they do. Eventually I'll yell at someone else to take over and try to get a couple hours of sleep. Then, because it will rain, MacGyver. Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll get to ride in the afternoon.

  

My father-in-laws passing reinforced just how fast it can all end. There are few rides I regret having taken, but gazillions I regret skipping. So I get a little wet? Maybe it will be the ride where everything clicks. At the very least, there's always hotdogs.