Here's the deal: It is Tour de France season, and that means The Audiophile is riding 50 miles during the day and watching The Tour during the night. That leads to a situation where no music is being played, no tweaking is being done, and no cursing is happening at anything other than the idiotic mountain-stage crowds that threaten to knock those polka-dotted contenders right out of their saddles.
In summary, since this blog is not titled The Cyclophile's Wife, I have nothing to report this week unless you care to hear about sweaty cycling shorts and head panties being peeled off and flung directly into the washing machine.
TAW