Baseball

We'll listen to Aztec Camera.
New York, New York - October 2005

The apartment is starting to come together, thanks. I've realized that after all of the waiting and stress, that there really was something worth waiting for in this apartment. Funny that you forget all the good things about living on your own when you're stranded for a few months.

I joined the gym over the weekend, and with me putting on some weight lately, I really don't want this to become a gym donating thing, so I started strong, went last night, and then came home to watch some of the Astros-Cardinals playoff game over a late dinner. I shut it off to do some things around the apartment, with the Astros up 4-2, figuring they'd get it to their relievers, and that would be that. They'd hold on, win the game, win the series, and all of my predictions for this post season will be right going into the World Series. This is exciting for me; I've never gotten them all right. I'd just check back in later to see the onfield celebration.

I cleaned up, emptied a box, did the crossword and some of the acrostic (even though clue I was incorrect), brushed my teeth, and headed back out to the living room to catch the end of the game.

I flipped on the TV, two outs, no one one, Astros still holding onto their two-run lead. "Perfect timing," I said to myself. They get two strikes on David Eckstein. The crowd stands, cheering, spinning towels, screaming, yelling, banging annoying inflatable tubes together... and he knocks a single between second and third. Then Jim Edmonds walks. Then, Pujols.

It was pefect timing, just not in the way I thought. Baseball, man, baseball.