I'm not sure why waking up is such a traumatic thing some days. It could have something to do with my dog doing cannonballs onto my stomach and then kidney punching me after I curl into the fetal position, but I'm not even sure that's it.
On my way to work I had to stop and buy some batting gloves, as I had officially destroyed the last pair last weekend. Not sure how, as I didn't hit a hell of a lot, but whatever. The old pair was severely funky in a "ooh what died in there" sort of way, so it's not a bad thing that I bought new gloves. So I dropped 60 bucks on a case of game balls and a pair of mizuno batting gloves (cost to manufacture: three dollars), and I'll probably go 0-4 anyways, unless the gloves have secret robot eyes that can help me lay off of the high fastball and the low curveball.
I am now sitting in my office, dripping sweat on the keyboard. Fortunately I once again forgot my deodorant, so everybody wins today.
Forecast for this evening: 75% bruised ego, with a chance of thrown helmets. 25% chance of a victory, if other team forgets location of field.
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