Mental Images

I joke about it... But then it happens. I set out on the commute thinking how light the pedals felt -- how good it felt to take up space and be with me. I'm about a mile down the road of happiness when it dawns on me that I left my bag at home. And my hands are really cold.

Round tripped back to the car. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on my mood, my bizoys don't clean up after themselves. There was one of each of their gloves for the ride to work. They were even  left and right matched.