Got to office bike shelter and discovered a lack of keys in pocket. This was at 6.48 after a gentle pootle on the old iron horse under this morning's gorgeous sunrise. I then remember leaving the keys on the bed after changing trousers due to chainstain. Nonetheless, I keep a wary eye on the road as I head back home. 7.08, wake sister up, get buzzed in, and retrieve keys after a conversation of sorry and grunt.
Get to reception, approach the security gate and flexi clock and discovered a lack of wallet in jeans. Texts to now-officially-woken sister reveal that wallet in the discarded greasy breeks.
How I failed to notice the lack of wallet pressing in my beauttock* is testament to how poorly I function before coffee.
Today I am not Bruce MacDonald, I am Temporary #775. I am not a number. I am an idiot.
*bit like a normal person buttock, but as a cyclist: beautiful.