I want all my stuff back!

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So, we're back to Hell's kitchen again-92 degrees and humid, only today it is windy just for good measure. Humid + Windy =Great IMFL bike training day.

You could feel the humidity gathering in the air last night and my toes and ankles confirmed the rising dew point. So, even with A/C sleeping is difficult.

This might help explain why MN Tridaddy kept poking me through the night exclaiming

VICTORIE!! like some sort of Italian Biking god.

Poke, poke, poke

"I want my stuff back"

Poke, poke, poke

MN Tridddy talks in his sleep. I've been known to talk back. Not in my sleep, but rather fully, or at least semi concious. Somewhere in my mind I must hear him rambling and then some meddling imp takes over my brain and conjugates a response guaranteed to confuse and befuddle his dream.

MN TD: "They have guns, we have to get them. Where did they go? Are they upstairs"

Imp: They went down by the river, under the bridge.

Tridaddy mind spinning, contemplating, how did a river and bridge appear in his dream?

MNTD: "expletive! Go, go, go! We have to catch them"

and off he runs.

Poke, poke, poke.

"Victorie!

poke

I want my stuff back"

Imp: Oh take your stuff, it's a bunch of broken down crap anyhow.

Restless shifting ensues accompanied by dejected sighs.

Act II

MNTD: You put that leg down! You put that leg down or I'm going to...

Oh, this could be trouble

Whap!

Tridaddy's hand came down on the small of my back with a hollow thud.

Boy, that didn't feel like a leg- poke, poke, pat.

Tridaddy rolls over wondering just where did that impressive musculature of a back come from? Where did the leg go?

At this point I moved to the couch, just to be safe.

Victorie!