spit bubbles

Drifting in and out of sleep, I dreamt of bigger things, Will Smith. Upon waking and coming to terms with the fact that I was just Will Smith and that I am no longer Will Smith, I strode out to the kitchen to find only Warren and I were at the apartment. I made a large jar of yerba mate tea and some rye flakes, feeling unburdened by the amount of noise I was making since the couch was without a sleeping body. I fooled around on the computer, nursing the tea jar until I figured it was time I made my way to campus for the class I'm unofficially auditing.
A few hundred steps down the street and I decided it would be most advantageous if I biked instead of walked. So I hustled back to the apartment, grabbed the key and some gloves and headed out the door. I went through the motions to unlock the bike but some water had gotten into the chamber and froze. As I head the I (heart) USA lighter underneath the mechanism of the ulock I chuckled to myself. Upon locking my bike up, I had run back into the apartment grabbing the keys to the secondary bike lock, I realized that that lock was also frozen.