The kitchen is once again awash in bicycle parts because my most thorough Swede decided that a simple request that she put some new grips on my handlebars was a good reason to clean the chain and change the ball-bearings in the crankshaft.
And this wouldn’t be a problem at all except that it’s 7:30 p.m. and the master mechanic has requested my famous Tom Kha coconut chicken soup for dinner. (As the “weekend wife”, it’s my night to cook. But besides that, I feel really fortunate that she’s such a competent mechanic since our bikes are our only form of personal transportation.)
But if she hadn’t elected to wear her workout ensemble (a pair of gym shorts and a black sports bra) for the job, we’d SO be ordering pizza.