When I woke up this morning, there were three texts I was praying I wouldn't get.
First, from Ang. "You need to come home; Trot has locked himself in the dryer on the Spin Cycle.
Second, from Ang. "I'm calling a plumber; Rakes has his leg stuck in the toilet".
Third, from Jr. "Beckett's hurt".
Thankfully, only one came true, although I think I'd rather it have been the one about the toilet. THAT? I can do something about.
Now, in addition to the scary fact the Sox either score 15 runs or none is the knowledge that the ace of the pitching staff sprained his ankle on a Toronto Blue Jays mound that the Oliver Stone part of me thinks was jimmied and is out of action for, at the very best, a week.
I need a Valium.