Over the last several days, the St. Louis Cardinals have done a number on my heart rate, sending my anxiety levels soaring with on-again-off-again torments akin to those of jilted lovers past. Are the Cardinals trying to teach me a lesson for giving up on them in August? Do they not know that I have kowtowed my ignorance, begged them for compassion? Pleaded for forgiveness?
I NEVER LEFT YOU, MY FRIENDS. I COULD NEVER LEAVE YOU. SO STOP FREAKING ME OUT.
There are three games left. They’re behind the Braves by one game. And they get to play the LOLstros.
Win, and there is great potential that I will break things in my apartment from all the excitement. Lose, and there is great potential that I will break things in my apartment from all the excitement.
I need to get out of the house.
So I’ll be at Sox Park, where the home team will put you to sleep faster than a handful of benzodiazepines chased with a bottle of scotch. I’m hoping the visiting Jays can distract me from the tension filled anxiety of my own nervous psyche. But I will be scoreboard watching. You can be sure of that.
And, when it comes time to break things, I’ll fit right in. No one will probably even notice.