Friday, October 20, 2006
Beat down, broken-hearted
I am exhausted, to the very marrow of my bones. Last night I attended Game 7 of the NLCS. I jumped, I pumped my fist, I danced and I yelled. To no avail. My team lost. Then I had to endure the ultimate in unpleasant experiences of 50,000 people all trying to leave the stadium and get home at the same time. 50,000 people depressed beyond belief because a punk named Yardier Molina stole their dream. It took forever. When I finally walked through my front door around 1:15 am, my legs were about 10 steps away from giving out on me completely. My large, lovely, soft bed had never been more welcoming.
It's a long, full weekend in front of me. Next week, my old roommate and one of my very best friends, Abby, is coming into town for about a week. Then the weekend after that I have committed the whole frickin weekend to Scott (which, let's not kid ourselves, is not really going to happen). I am DYING for a day off. A full day, just to do whatever the heck I want to do. No obligations. I can sleep in as much as I want. I can get laundry done, for the love of Pete!
I'm a little tired and stressed right now. Maybe I should just end this before I start foaming at the mouth.
Have a great weekend!
It's a long, full weekend in front of me. Next week, my old roommate and one of my very best friends, Abby, is coming into town for about a week. Then the weekend after that I have committed the whole frickin weekend to Scott (which, let's not kid ourselves, is not really going to happen). I am DYING for a day off. A full day, just to do whatever the heck I want to do. No obligations. I can sleep in as much as I want. I can get laundry done, for the love of Pete!
I'm a little tired and stressed right now. Maybe I should just end this before I start foaming at the mouth.
Have a great weekend!
