In Ireland, the bus have random schedule.
They leave the start point with like 10 minutes late, and as the traffic is very heavy (at least in the morning toward the city center, and around 5pm toward the south, which are my directions at these moments of the day) that means that I should expect one hour (ok, I'm being of bad faith. But fuck it, I hate waiting in the cold in front of the bus that I'll take a few minutes later, with his driver answering his phone in the upper floor. Let say 40 minutes) to get to the college.

So I bought a bike.
First because of the increasingly expensive cost of the bus (73€ per month for a student, or 1.50€ for a single trip on a single bus line).
Second because it only take 20 minutes to go to the city center from Rathmines (where I live), and 30 minutes for the back trip.
Unless...

Unless you find the back wheel of your bike flat.
When you realize that, you're suddenly feeling more tired. Especially when you've just been told that there was some assigment to give back a week later, and you don't have the wording.
That's what happened to me on tuesday.
So I came back home (by bus, and at that very moment, I was glad there were some), and began to worry about how to get it fix. In the same time, I was tearfully saying good bye to my climbing session (yeah, I haven't climb for like 20 days now).
And I decided to get a new inner tube and a pomp the next day.

So on wednesday, I tried a sport shop. They didn't sell anything related to cycle... Fine. A bit run out, I decided to go on with my last class, and then to go get one in the place where I bought my bike. Then I called someone to ask her if she wanted me to bring her my hard drive. She accepted gratefully, and I was back in college with my hard drive for my fencing lesson. I arrived a bit late, but there were no one.
I called... Once. Twice. On the third time, she answered, and ran to get me. I just gave her the hard drive and went inside the building, as I was already late.
Yeah, it's rude of me, I know. But being mean is my definition. Dominikus can tell.
Maybe God is punishing me for being such a nasty girl... Hence, I was late for the warming up, and so my right arm suffered a little more than usual. Damn it.

The next day, I gathered all my courage and my good mood (yes, as I did sport the day before, and as I slept, I was in a good mood) to go to college for some lectures and to change my tire (at last). And when I tried my poor tool on it (a very tiny and useful one), I figured out that it wasn't very useful. So I had to get a new one...
So I was fixing my bike in the dark (it's dark at 4:30pm here. At 4:30am also, thought), less than two hours before my fencing practise. And I had to go home to get my things...
Finally, I managed to get (nearly) in time for me to fence.

And there, it appears that only one épée (sword. Here fencers use french vocabulary... Very useful, indeed.) was working for three fencers who don't own one. So we shared the épée (and gladly, the other épéistes had their own), until we broke it. Don't ask me how, I don't have a clue.
That's the reason why I learnt how to fix an electric épée. And this was most interesting.
After two hours of fencing, I went to have a shower... You know, this relaxing moment, when you get rid of your tiredness...
Well, I was taking mine, when my towel fell in the water...
Unable to dry myself properly, I joined some friends a little bit wet (but still in good mood though... Fencing is good for my mood. Even if I have a lot of new bruises every time I fight someone.) and we had some good time in a pub.

OK. I think that God is definitly punishing me for being so mean.
He can go on punishing.
As long as I can practise sport, I'll be in good spirit.
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