How many is better than one? Are you sure about that?

It's in the living room now.

Nothing has been said about it, but I know it's here to stay. Its slender profile and well-designed parts earned it a permanent place in my home. There is nothing I can do about it.

Still, there are worse things than having a bicycle balanced against the 1930s, original finish fireplace. Besides, it makes my boyfriend so happy to greet it there every morning. I do wonder where we'll store it when my sisters and their two 10 year olds come to stay for a few days in July.

My house is becoming too small. Essentially we have three rooms. That loosely translates into: not enough. There are only two fo us, and the big balcony adds a significant amount of space in the summer, but I work at home. My living room quadruples as an office (complete with two computers, a printer, and school books and stacks of files), as leisure space to welcome guests, a guest bedroom and, now, as a bike storage facility.

Remember just two paragraphs ago when I mentioned that there are worse things than one bike in the living room? Well, let me clarify.

My boyfriend of nearly six years has become quite friendly with Ebay. He sells as much as he buys, but as you now know that I live in a three-room apartment, you may be wondering where all of this stuff is stored before it's sold. And, that is an excellent question.

Currently, there are eight bikes stored in our landlord's nearby garage. Out of sight, out of mind. I really didn't care how cluttered the garage might be until we received a phone call from the landlord, just hours ago, telling us she'll need it emptied before July 1st (the controversial Moving Day in Montreal).

So yes, there are worse things than one bike in the house. And it comes in nines.

Why do I allow bikes in my living room?

Well, this boyfriend of mine is an ex bike mechanic, ex bike messenger, bikeopheliac, brakeless fixed gear rider, Alleycat organizer, bike race winner, supplier of bikes to all my spokesless friends, and builder of my beautiful '67 Schwinn---so, it's my tortured way of saying, "I love you."