Alas, my push for the Units ended in dismal failure this night, as I arrived moments after the turnback time. My adventurer’s spirit is tempered only by my discipline, so I turned back to my basecamp at Reston. Tomorrow at first light I will make another attempt on the summit of the larger unit. I do not know what horrors–or treasures–await me there. All I have is a handdrawn map, a vague recollection of precarious stackage and my wits to keep me alive amidst the rubble.
This is just to say that I was supposed to find Melissa’s boots and a sleeping bag for her camping trip next week in one of our two overstuffed storage units in Northern Va. And I got there too late; the outer doors are locked after 10 P.M.
Awww, it is ok if you can’t get my boots or sleeping bag. I can sleep in my PJs on a bare mattress. I just hope it’s not too cold so I don’t have to lie awake shivering for hours. And I can get by without my boots. I mean the max # of sprained ankles I can get is two, right? That’s not that many. So really, don’t even worry about it.
Oh, and I’m taking the Bolt again tomorrow. I promise a round-up of last Friday’s ride soon, complete with updated legroom figures both pre- and post-arrest.