She's posting all the time, but the boards are down.

Tonight, I was sitting around my house after work trying to decompress.

It isn't like work was overly stressful, the complete opposite actually. It is just that I tend to be keyed up when I leave work at night.

It did only take me 21 minutes door to door to get home.

Mental note: be prepared to get a speeding ticket if you are going to do 130kmh on the QEW. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday the fuzz is going to be bored too.

So I got home and the roomies seem to have made up a little, which means they are back at their normal roosts. It is strange it seems that one of them is perpetually lying on my couch. He was there when I left the house this morning at 10:30 and was in the exact position when I got home at 11pm. I know they went to work, but I just can't figure it. Does he have a continuity girl stashed in his room? How does he do it?

At about 12:30, I got a little stircrazy. I just couldn't deal with being in here anymore. So I left. Got on my bicycle and went for a ride. Went as far as Christie then turned around and went the same distance west from my house. It was such a beautiful night. Perfect for riding. I criss-crossed side streets, took some alleys, you know, just made the trip longer. It was incredible.

Well until I got back on Wallace. I was coming out of the section of Wallace that is a dead end at the train tracks. The spot with the big bridge. Anyway, I was heading east towards Perth Ave, when this van turns on Wallace from Symington heading towards Perth as well. All of a sudden he turns on his high beams and keeps them on until he gets to the intersection.

I get to the stop sign first. I cross the intersection and pass him on the driver's side, sit back in my seat and give him the finger while yelling 'F*ckin' Idiot!' into his open window.

That's when I notice it is a City of Toronto Parking Enforcement van. The lazy SOB had his high beams on so he could see down the street for cars without having to go down into the cul-de-sac. I was pissed, but kept riding.

That's when I noticed he was following me. I took Symington south and then turned on Paton, taking the the odd side streets back towards my house. He kept on following, not doing his job, but keeping track of me. At this point I was wishing he would say something. Driver's generally forget that almost every bike rider is armed with a 5-10lb metal club in the shape of a u-lock, perfect for smashing out windshields. But he stayed back, following me all the way to my street, but not turning down. He just kept on driving down Wallace.

Part of me wishes he would be spending the entire night explaining how his city vehicle had its window smashed instead of spending it ruining mine.