*Image courtesy of www.fotosearch.com*
It's Tuesday November 17th. The boys are asleep, Ciera and Ang are downstairs watching something called "The Duggars" (I think it involves self-absorbed idiotic parents who decided to have an entire 52 man football team and thought it was a good idea to put on tv but I'm too scared to ask) and I'm lost.
Fenway Park sits cold and empty, the season is over, and it's around 3 months until the sound of a ball landing in a mitt is going to come from Florida. There isn't an NFL game until Thursday and I've got "NCIS: Los Angeles" on in the background, starring Chris O'Connell. Dude went from sharing the big screen with Al Freaking Pacino in "Scent of a Woman" to working a spin-off tv show with LL Cool J; 'course I sell furniture for a living so who am I to criticize?
All I know is if I didn't have a family to love over and try and keep out of reform school, I'm pretty sure I'd lose my sanity during the winter; I have no idea how my friends who are single actually make it to Spring without ending up on the evening news for completely losing it at the checkout line in Walmart.
Throw in the Hot Stove heating up and every liquored up yahoo from Massachusetts to Los Angeles is speculating on who the Sox are going to give up to acquire Adrian Gonzales, Roy Halladay, or the bat boy from Oakland and I've got a headache that a morphine drip couldn't touch.
It's times like these I remember that "fan" is short for "fanatic" and remind myself I'm not alone.
Wonder if Santa Clause keeps his eye on the free agent list?