Rain days and hill climbs

If you were ever wondering to your self, "how could I make Michiel talk" if you found yourself needing answers and felt that coercion might be necessary, I can give you the recipe for how to do it exactly. I shouldn't but I am feeling chatty. Here is the story. We got rained on. I hung a jersey out to dry and it didn't. Shannon brought it in to the tent in the morning. I went to put it on over my head but as I was slipping it on my more perceptive animal brain warned me of something that my regular brain didn't believe was likely. Luckily I hadn't unzipped the top of my cycling jersey so my head wouldn't fit and I had to take the jersey off to unzip it. As I pulled it back off something fell out of the jersey that and that something was of my nightmares. I fought with it, ran from it, struggled with it, and all within a little tent. I was making terrified monkey noises the whole time. Shannon believed at I was wrestling, apparently by myself. She is very accepting of my eccentricities. I got the monster out of the tent and it ran under the tent. I punched the tent floor trying to convince it that it wouldn't really like to live under the tent because it was apparently always going to be being punched. It would not come out and I wouldn't go in after it. A few more punches and Shannon came over to find out why I was sweating and generally freaking out, or, why this time. I told her in my shrill frantic voice, "it was six inches long! And in my jersey when I went to put it on!" Now I check all of my clothing twice and then Shannon's before either of us are allowed to get dressed. So, if the world gets all Orwellian and I am eventually taken to the "room with no shadows" you can tell them how they can get any answers that they may wish out of me. It turned out to be only five inches or so, by the way. A photo to follow.