Sigh.

Missed Farscape.

Sox apparently pulled a rabbit out of their hats. Nothing's ever easy.

Two-thirty and sleep is nowhere in sight.

Nerves

I knew I had to get some sleep last night, and yet I was still up until all hours listening to the ballgame. And I paid for it in the morning.

Not to mention, I get back from work today and the game's on - and my stomach's all in knots.

Seriously. Why am I nervous?

(Borderline nauseous, actually. Though that may have been partly due to Fox running that Big Fat Obnoxious Reality Show ad again.)

Owie.

*wince*

At least the Yankees are coming home. Say what you will, getting the last shot in a ballgame is a definite home-field advantage.

And somehow, I think that pitching Curt Schilling with an anke threatening to fall apart is not going to go well for Boston.

Still, it hurts to lose.

And I know what'll happen if the Red Sox win.

There will be gloating. There will be brutality. There will be disparaging things said to New York for years to come.

Of such things are hatreds and blood feuds born and nurtured.