They Call me the Worksman

Actually, they don't. The mild pun will make sense later on in this post. But first an aside...

Yesterday, I mentioned that it's been downright gloomy around here lately, and I've been searching for bright spots. The mural next to the laundromat was doubly nice this morning:

Update: the weather finally broke this afternoon after I had started writing this

That's actually painted on the side of the last remaining row home on the block, which has been converted into a baptist church. What I'm more interested in are the garden beds in the foreground. Gotta find out who those belong to...

Our laundromat (and our fleet) received some sprucing up as well:

I'm not sure if matching the blues was intentional, but color coordination makes the obsessive compulsive side of me very happy. I also enjoy the new Worksman trike you see up there. Only 3 speeds, but it's got an electric assist (for those serious hills north of the wall) and can haul some serious ass. Just gotta be careful around those turns...the cornering leaves a bit to be desired.

My supervisor told me to push its limits if possible (gotta know if she's gonna be able to handle our worst, right?). That's easy enough:

That's 8 bags of laundry, each weighing about 40 pounds, packed into that bin. Piece of friggin' cake.

I'm not sure if this is gonna be my full-time ride, but I enjoyed being on a grown-up tricycle this week. Who doesn't love a little regression? Happy Friday.