The BoJo Dance

For those counting, today is my hump day.  Yippee.
I did get a measure yesterday.  That's what we're supposed to do. Get measures for flooring installations.  For a moment I was a bright spot.  The dark spot was that the large, home improvement retailer lowered not only 4th quarter expectations, but also their forecast for next year.  Why the drop in sales?  They're claiming it is most likely due to theft caused by the opioid crisis.  That's right, addicts are coming in and stealing hundreds of millions of dollars worth of products...  Now, that's what I call slinging horseshit.  Addicts aren't that smart.  Nope.  Theft is a business.  It's called Organized Crime.  And it ain't going away any time soon.
On the lighter side, I bought some new clips for my cycling shoes... to be more exact, the left shoe.

This pair included little, rubber covers so they don't click - clack like tap shoes when I'm walking around on my hardwood floors.  They also keep me from scratching the floor as well.  Believe me, I've never had any desire to be a tap dancer.
Unlike Boris from the UK, who has no problem shuffling from one routine to another.  He's a younger version of our Idiot Jerk.  And dance?  That man should be on Dancing with the Duds, or what ever the British dance show is called where phonies line up to trot out their lines.  Lie Dancing?  They're experts.  And no, that's not a typo.  I didn't mean to say Line Dancing.  You know he is a agreeing to some crazy deals with our Idiot Jerk that will end up with the citizens of the UK paying through the nose.  But that's okay.  He will pirouette in to a pas de deux with our Idiot Jerk, all the while smiling back over his shoulder to avoid seeing the higher costs his Conservative government will establish.  And those addled fools who vote for him will see their NHS being whittled down to the bone.
Anyway, my route last night was in Canyonville.  A little over 16 miles long.  Not very memorable, so I'm deleting it from my downloaded routes.  No ride tonight.  It's every other night from now on.  That works better for me.  Longer, with a 24 hour recovery period in between.

StayCation day 3 (or Biggie goes to the Vet)

Yep, it's day 3 already... my, how time flies when you're having fun.
Yesterday was fairly busy:  had the car serviced, shined the candelabra:

I took the dogs for a walk in the park, they loved it, though Seig was exhausted when we got home.  He's good for short bursts of speed and walks around the block.  I also rode 12.19 miles of a 16.18 mile ride in Canyonville, Oregon.  Rouvy has a little clip if you want to see what I see.  The clip shows several cyclists and usually it's only me.  Occasionally there are other riders, but we never really get close.

Gallup has an interesting article on how the number of people who respect organized religion is continuing to drop.  They cite several reason:  the priest scandals of the Catholic Church and Evangelicals forcing their way in to politics.  Their comment about the latter was something like: Republicans may like it but Democrats and Independents don't.  Remember, the election will be here before you know it.
And finally, Seig goes to the Vet today.  He needs his distemper and rabies shots.  As always, I like to remind people with pets that they need to manage their Veterinarian.  He may talk puppy or kitty talk to you pet in a very trustworthy voice but the bottom line is he is running a business.  He is a lot like the big, home improvement retailer I work for in that he wants to fill your shopping cart.  Here's one example:  Seig was wormed when he was a puppy, yet they wanted me to bring a stool sample so they could run a fecal test for parasites.  A small modicum of research on the Internet will educate you on what symptoms your pet will exhibit if he have worms.  The last time Seig weighed in at 118 lbs, it's why we call him Biggie.  He does not have worms, but that's not going to stop them from charging me $40 to run a fecal exam... just to be on the safe side.  Once you begin to manage your Vet he will learn to reach into someone else's pocket to pay for his Mercedes.