For a Friday before Labour Day, today was almost quiet. Tomorrow no doubt the Air Show at the Ex(hibition) will kick into sound barrier crashing high gear, but at least today we were spared hysterical children traumatized by jets roaring over the yard every five minutes.
It was in fact a classically beautiful August day, hot in the sun, cool in the shade, blue and green and breezy. In my personal mythology this belongs to Days of 2012, sun drenched late afternoons at the much missed Ginger restaurant, eating chicken satay and rice noodles, drinking Vietnamese coffee, and reading American Gods. So instead I had hisashiburi pasta and a glass of wine at the Italian restaurant (with the Sri Lankan chef) round the corner from work. But when I went to unlock my bike afterwards to go to acupuncture, my keys were gone from my pocket, onnaccountof a great big hole in same. They weren't in the restaurant nor by the bike, and odd I hadn't heard them clank when they fell, but there you are. Of course I had my back-up set, because I always do, but they're the ones with the bent bike key that sometimes doesn't work, and it's also the last of my duplicate house keys (well, barring those given to sibs and one neighbour.)
Resigned to buying a new bike lock, which god knows I need, and possibly getting a new front door lock as well, which would be a good idea because the knob doesn't actually open the door, I bumped my way down to the acupuncture studio at Dufferin and Dundas. (Toronto roads are the literal pits.) When I took off my bike clip in order to roll up my pants leg, my keys clanked onto the floor. So let's hear it for velcro bike clips. And I shall be doing a lot of mending this weekend, because it seems several pockets are in need of fixing.