Normally nights without the Red Sox are an exercise in frustration for me where I spend most of the time trying to figure out what in the world I'm going to talk to Ang about that doesn't involve baseball, how I'm trying not to let Rakes and Trot drive me insane, and baseball.
I must have done something right recently as last night I had Gus and Woodrow and "Lonesome Dove" to keep me occupied and tonight it was Andy and Red and "Shawshank Redemption", both of which are guaranteed watches if I happen to stumble across them during my 30 second run through channels 2 to 987.
However, much like Lucy always yanks the football away at the last minute from Charlie Brown a torrential downpour is passing over my house as we speak at the VERY point in the movie where, to quote Red, " Andy crawled to freedom through five hundred yards of s*&t smelling foulness I can't even imagine, or maybe I just don't want to" which turned my satellite into nothing more than a bouncing DirecTv icon periodically interrupted my a message letting me know it's looking for a signal.
I'm hoping it passes over quick.
'Cause hope is a good thing.
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