It's the month of my birthday, which means I'm really excited about my birthday for no apparant reason. Birthdays are a pretty big deal in my family, which typically means that my husband thinks I'm insane. Well, more insane than usual.
I'm normally pretty insane. Take last night, for example. At roughly 2:00 a.m. a major, loud thunderstorm rolled through the area and my husband, who was already lying awake from his insane heartburn problem, was marveling at the fact that I somehow managed to sleep through said loud disturbance. Just when he was about to make sure I wasn't dead and would be awake in case we needed to take shelter in the basement, he claims I sat up like the living dead. I "shot up like a living dead person in a coffin from the Michael Jackson Thriller music video" actually. The first thing screamed out of my mouth?
"DID YOU COVER THE GRILL?!?!?"
We had super awesome delicious porterhouse steaks for dinner last night and I forgot to do my only job, which is covering the grill. Awful wife, party of one. After finding out, apparently, that the grill was not covered, I announced that our nice grill was ruined forever and layed my pretty little head back down on the pillow and went back to sleep immediately. Through the crazy thunderstorm. See. Told you. Cray-zee.
But back to my birthday. It's not my birthday. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not even the day after tomorrow. Or the day after that. It's gonna be a while. But, I'm still excited about this day and about what fantastical thing I'm going to receive for my birthday. So much so that when what I'm told is "one of" my birthday gifts arrived from the UPS man yesterday, I convinced my husband to let me open it. He tried putting up a fight but quickly lost the battle. I think I'm starting to wear him down and it only took three short years!
As I ripped open the box and tore away the packing material, I reached in and pulled out my fantastic gift and squealed with delight.
It was pepper spray made especially for my bike with a new and improved tear-away design! Used by the NYPD! And those exclamation points are not me feigning my excitement! I'm really, genuinely excited about pepper spray! Seriously, you guys. My husband knows that I watch enough Law & Order (all varieties/flavors) Dateline, 48 Hours: Mystery and COPS to approach almost every situation with a large amount of skepticism and just a pinch of trepidation. Sometimes--just sometimes--it is necessary. Most times? Not. I could be called paranoid, but I prefer to say that I'm actually "cautiously optimistic" about everything.
I run with pepper spray in my hand. Why? Well, because I'm running alone in a rural area and I'll be damned if I'm going to let a weird person or mangy mutt interrupt my happy time while running and listening to Justin Bieber. Have I ever used it? Nope. But I know that much like every time I forget my umbrella and it starts to rain on the frizzy mess I call my hair, some rabid dog will chase me and interrupt me and JB. That's what I call Justin, move along. Nothing to see here.
Riding my road bike with the spray is no exception. You should see the deranged look on these dog's faces, people. They want to eat my scrawny ankles and they want to eat them NOW. I love dogs. But seriously. I have been carrying my spray in a zippered pouch under my bike seat, which clearly means that by the time I get it out and begin spraying I will have either: A. Been eaten alive by a loose dog that likes the taste of human flesh or B. Crashed my bike into a corn field, THEN eaten alive by a loose dog that likes the taste of human flesh. So, this sweet new spray potentially solves all of the problems that present themselves while riding my road bicycle. Well, other than the problem of wearing spandex and a very unfashionable helmet.