With the wearing of the green a Daylight Savings jiggled night away, the saying about Irish Alzheimer's comes to mind: We forget everything but the grudges. Well, selective memory applies anyway, regardless of how relentlessly the world turns---or the wheel.

The company emptied the dumpster two days ago but the blue bicycle wheel is in my thoughts. This due to it also being in my hands during its twilight in the refuse receptacle; attending to my own castoffs I took another look, blog entry in mind, and the anomalies made a gentle parade.

The blue rim appeared too shiny and uniform to be a result of a spraying. Picking it out, yes, it was apparent the plastic was in its manufactured form. I carried it to the blue arch and not only did the circumference not fit, the wheel was too tall for the outline. It was chucked back but, ah Columbo, one last thing. No, the hue didn't even fit. On to soap and water, to assuage the Miss and Mister Manners', and setting the record straight and in the process generating another blog.

Yes, a segue into a second entry as smooth as the finish which told me I was initially wrong. Under my staircase used to reside a fleet of the children's bikes which would be retrieved for a HUD inspection, only to roll out when this finished. I checked just now to see there are only two bikes and no tell-tale rim between them. But the painted wheel could be out and turning yet.