Goodbye my good friend. Hello bleeding man.

Ok, so I had an alright weekend, which consisted of a birthday party for my sister, some movie watching, soccer, reading, and cleaning with some new special cleaning products that I got. A good weekend.... or so I thought! On Monday my sister called me and asked me if I had taken my bike from my parent's backyard... I hadn't. It was STOLEN!

On Sunday night my mom looked outside and there was a man lurking in the backyard. She asked him what he was doing, and he said he was bleeding and needed to wash his hands in the pond. He said he heard it from the road. (which I tested and you cannot hear it at all). My mom helped him clean up with hot water and paper towel. I don't really know the full story. I just know that the next day my bike was gone. I suppose it's speculation, but I've noticed that when weird bleeding men AREN'T in our yard, things don't get stolen. I loved my bike. My dad bought me and my sister bikes at Canadian tire when we were kids. It was my first bike. I remember getting it, and even that it was $202.00. Once when I was 12 or so, I had one of those gel seats on it. It had a hole in it, and I put my finger in, and maggots came out. There are so many special times I spent with my bike, and I just want it to know that I miss it.

In other news, this morning I was on a bus for 10 minutes before I noticed that it said my name on the seat in front of me. It made me feel happy.