Yesterday, after the email arrived noting that YaYa’s baseball game was rained out, I let out a celebratory “Woo Hoo!” and quickly set my sights on a night with the gang at the Lenten Soup Night. Sadly, I’ve missed all but one of these weekly gatherings so far, thanks to the sport living up to the “baseball is life” tradition.
Well my “Woo Hoo” came a little too early in the afternoon, for soon after I began sending texts to let the gang know to expect us, another email arrived: We would have practice instead. I tried looking on the bright side noting that at least the sun was coming out.
Of course, as usual, I was running late. When the time came to go, I left work in a hurried frenzy leaving my bag of sweaty running clothes and bloody Bikilas behind on my office chair. I hesitated at my car and then thought better of returning for them. I was already LATE! Besides, who in their right mind would take a bag of stinky clothes and blood footwear? Good point. Right?
Well, you know where this is going. Why else would I write about it?