*Photo from the Boston Globe*
I'm not going to let the fact that the Red Sox dropped 2 of 3 vs. New York, or the fact that Curt Schilling has looked, well, old, his last 3 starts spoil my birthday. I'm going to think happy thoughts like this picture and enjoy my day.
Would I have liked a win? Sure. But it's a 162 game season, and even with a loss tonight, the Red Sox are still 9.5 games ahead of the next closest team in the East, which just so happens to be the Yankees.
Bigger problems than that occupy the vast emptiness in my head: such as why has my manly office, with framed Red Sox magazine covers, a "Reserved for Red Sox Fans Only" parking sign, and World Series poster been taken over by a pile of clothes, toys, and junk for some future yard sale? Or why it is after 9 pm and Rakes should be fast asleep, yet the unmistakable sound of a toy laser gun being fired is coming from behind his bedroom door? Finally, I hope this yard sale with it's date TBD means I can get out of my car after pulling into the garage WITHOUT having to turn into some freak show contortionist as I climb around bicycles, plastic lawn mowers, TWO sets of golf clubs, and a little red wagon.
Thanks to everyone for the Happy Birthday wishes: it's been a good day, and my break for freedom is only 2 days away. As much as I hate off-days, tomorrows day of rest for the boys will allow me to finally watch the season finale's of 24 and LOST, so at least it'll be productive.
Down in Arlington, the Rangers are waiting for the Red Sox caravan to arrive: here's to a 3 game Red Sox sweep, coupled with an Angel beat down of the Yankees.
After all: it is STILL my birthday, and everybody gets to make a wish on their birthday, right?
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