“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 686 (Friday)

Random abandoned bike seat.

It was an office-office day. With remote schedules and other factors, it was a skeleton crew of four on all of  the fourth floor. Parts of the day totally dragged ass, other parts flew by in a blink, and then it was done. There was no mid-day walk to break up the stretch of it as it was cold outside and I am currently in full-blown weenie hibernation mode.

After work, bundled in a long puffy coat with the hood pulled up over my hat-clad head, it was a rapid walk to the garage in the brisk weather. While the pace was quick, there was still time to notice things on the journey. As often happens, there were unexpected, fascinating points of interest along the way.

Street shoes.

The first item of interest was about a block from the bank on Merrimack Street in front of the bakery where the beautiful and delicious office celebratory cupcakes are often procured. The place is usually illuminated and abuzz with the glow and energy of young folks at 5:00.

Today, there was the usual lively group inside enjoying the hanging basket seats and tables with chairs. On the sidewalk side of the massive plate glass window, two bikes were parked on the concrete near the door, and also a bicycle seat. Just a seat. A nice, rather new looking, cushiony bicycle seat, just laying on the concrete sidewalk. A gnawed chicken bone, looking like a stray punctuation mark, lay nearby. Both of the parked bikes were fully intact and neither was missing a seat. 

Not far away on John Street, there was a worn pair of shoes, casually tossed on the brick sidewalk. A puddle of light shone down from the lamp at the opposite end of the lamppost that rose up from a crusty pile of dirty ice and snow. 

Fresh bandana.

A half block further, a crisp and bright red bandana sat in the gutter. Its pristine cleanliness accented the asphalt street and the stone curbing. It was neatly rolled as if it contained something special, and maybe it did. It didn't seem my place to look, plus, it was cold and I was nearly run over by a motorist turning the corner from John Street. 

Unfortunately, there was no informative label copy or museum panel to interpret the intriguing artifacts encountered along the journey to the garage. There is nothing left to do but wonder about the bicycle seat and the chicken bone, the shoes, and the bandana, and how they landed on the streets of Lowell.