Today was an extremely eventful day at guard drill. Paul and I took off at about 5:45 on our bikes to make it to Truax by 6:15..beat a pretty huge thunderstorm, thankfully. We built something like 700 BDUs [little practice bombs for the pilots] which, at 25 lbs each, got to be a HUGE pain after several hours. Al lunch we discovered that if you buy a cookie at Panera "to go" it is 8 cents cheaper than if you eat it in the restaurant. Bizarre.

When I went to leave drill after a pretty busy day, I reached for my bike, which should have been in the trailer bay just like I left it during the storm. It wasn't. Now, my bike is the one material possession that I actually really care about. I love my bike, I do. It simplifies my life, it gets me exercise, I like to zip around on it. I knew immediately who the culprit was: the mischief maker that always gives me a lot of shit. I searched high and low [after EVERYONE had left except for Matty, who I've deployed with twice, and who was nice enough to wait around for me] and eventually, I found my beloved bike. Strapped to the rafters. Son of a.

Matty was nice enough to get it down for me. Had he not been there I would have been steaming, but because he jumped on top of a tool kit and brought it back down to the ground WHERE IT BELONGS I could only laugh. Except...

It's on like Donkey Kong.