After working 10 hours, trying to convince people they absolutely, positively HAD to have that new sofa and getting rejected 90% of the time, I was looking forward to seeing my kids, kissing my wife, and relaxing to the sounds of DO and Remy calling the Sox/Twins game tonight.
While I did get to see the kids and Ang, the game? Not happening. Raining cats and dogs in Boston and instead the game will be played tomorrow. At 12:30 in the afternoon. While I'm working.
IF it gets played at all; apparently, God wants to send me to the nuthouse by raining out TWO days worth of games while I try with every fiber of my being to maintain what small shred of sanity I've got left.
'Cause if I get to see a game? I can get past certain things that otherwise send me one step closer to the edge of insanity.
Like tonight. While cursing under my breath about not getting to watch the Sox, I settled down on the sofa with Ciera and Rakes to watch "COPS", during which they ran a commercial promoting "Stupid Gross things people do at work that get videotaped for the world to see" or something when up pops a guy peeing in the community coffee pot at work. I don't say a word, hoping he was day dreaming about Spiderman or Batman or wondering why Indiana Jones looks just like Han Solo for the millionth time but 15 seconds later I hear him utter the following.
Rakes: "I know what that dude was doing, Dad. He pulled out his willy and peed in that pot. Look, I'll show you..."
I think the fact I yelled loud enough to wake the dead prevented him from re-enacting all this in front of his sister; either that or he was just messing with me, which could very well be the case.
So you see, watching baseball isn't only a form of entertainment for me.
It's also the only thing I've got that is keeping me from rocking back and forth in the corner in the fetal position while singing "Billie Jean" at the top of my lungs.