Bugs.
The other day I got this comment on my 30 for 30 post:
To be honest, I hadn't checked my comments in a year or so, because nobody reads this stuff anymore. No readers means even fewer comments. It's not that I don't care what other people think, it's just that I don't believe anyone cares what I think.
However, when such an insightful comment such as this appears, you have to reassess your entire worldview.
Or not.
I took it as a sign that I shouldn't ride. Well, that and my hat blew off of my head three times in 50 feet, the company truck's door yanked me off my feet when the wind caught it, and I suddenly was inspired to revolutionize my training plan by moving the rest day up a bit. I'm sorry, but there's a difference between putting your nose into the wind and pulling your body out of a tree you were just blown into.
That sort of wind can be demoralizing, unless you're riding with someone else that's more affected by it than you are. Then it's inspiring. Lacking a weaker training partner, I opted to stay in.
I spent my work day cleaning and repairing bug zappers. Sounds glamorous, doesn't it? Nothing smells so sweet as cleaning up a heaping pile of fried flies. Wait, sweet isn't the word for it. Go the other way.
The bug zappers need to be maintained because summer in King Salmon (and many places in Alaska) means flies and other airborne insects. Lots of them. They are attracted to the oil in the radar, and find their way into the supposedly sealed system, where they turn the oil into bug part sludge which clogs the filters. So, we kill them before they get there with industrial-strength bug zappers. Beats scooping out the alternative.
I am probably one of the best-paid bug zapper repairmen in the world. I'm not proud. Whatever it takes to pay the mortgage and put eTap on my bikes...
However, as I vainly try to scrape the stench of grilled bug guts off from my skin, I wonder what my good friends at Al-Qassim would do in the same situation.
They probably would have taken the day off and ridden their bikes.
اسعار شركات رش الحشرات شركة مكافحة بق الفراش بالقصيم اسعار مكافحة الحشرات شركة مكافحة حشرات ببريدة شركة مكافحة سوس الخشب بالقصيم شركة مكافحة صراصير بالقصيم شركة مكافحة فئران بالقصيم مكافحة حشرات المنزل مكافحة حشرات بالقصيم شركة مكافحة النمل الابيض بالقصيم شركة مكافحة الحشرات ببريدة شركة رش مبيدات ببريدة شركات مكافحة الحشرات بالقصيم افضل شركة مكافحة الحشراتReally? As you can imagine, I was blown away by the parallels between the fine work of the Al-Qassim Insect Control Company in their ongoing war with" insects of cockroaches and mice and bed bugs with a guarantee" and my desire to erase the memory of Lance Armstrong from cycling. I can't imagine a comment being more on-target. Chapeau!
To be honest, I hadn't checked my comments in a year or so, because nobody reads this stuff anymore. No readers means even fewer comments. It's not that I don't care what other people think, it's just that I don't believe anyone cares what I think.
However, when such an insightful comment such as this appears, you have to reassess your entire worldview.
Or not.
I took it as a sign that I shouldn't ride. Well, that and my hat blew off of my head three times in 50 feet, the company truck's door yanked me off my feet when the wind caught it, and I suddenly was inspired to revolutionize my training plan by moving the rest day up a bit. I'm sorry, but there's a difference between putting your nose into the wind and pulling your body out of a tree you were just blown into.
That sort of wind can be demoralizing, unless you're riding with someone else that's more affected by it than you are. Then it's inspiring. Lacking a weaker training partner, I opted to stay in.
I spent my work day cleaning and repairing bug zappers. Sounds glamorous, doesn't it? Nothing smells so sweet as cleaning up a heaping pile of fried flies. Wait, sweet isn't the word for it. Go the other way.
The bug zappers need to be maintained because summer in King Salmon (and many places in Alaska) means flies and other airborne insects. Lots of them. They are attracted to the oil in the radar, and find their way into the supposedly sealed system, where they turn the oil into bug part sludge which clogs the filters. So, we kill them before they get there with industrial-strength bug zappers. Beats scooping out the alternative.
I am probably one of the best-paid bug zapper repairmen in the world. I'm not proud. Whatever it takes to pay the mortgage and put eTap on my bikes...
However, as I vainly try to scrape the stench of grilled bug guts off from my skin, I wonder what my good friends at Al-Qassim would do in the same situation.
They probably would have taken the day off and ridden their bikes.
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