So, I was riding my beautiful, afore mentioned bike home from work, following Hannah as closely as possible (as I do not yet know the way home on my own) through the curb-to-curb traffic at rush hour and I noticed that my bike petal seemed more wobbly than usual. I considered the fact that my bike is not exactly up to Lance Armstrong-standard, and that I frequently wonder if it will all come clattering apart around me when I ride over particularly brutal pot holes and decided that it was probably nothing to worry about. However, when a few stoplights later the wobbling had worsened considerably, I yelled at Hannah and pulled over. I said, "my bike petal feels weird," leaned down to examine it, pushed it ever so slightly...and it fell off.
The bike repairman's wife offered me this very helpful stool to sit on as I waited. I'm sure it must have been highly entertaining to observe my attempts to sit on and rise from the stool, although it was actually suprisingly comfortable once I got down there.
End of story: I'm very glad Hannah was with me. We made it home just fine, supper was waiting, and there was pineapple for dessert. That's happily ever after if there ever was such a thing.