My back’s been killing me all day. And by killing me, I mean that I bent down to pick up my shoes this morning and felt as if a Marine sniper had shot directly into my back just above my right buttcheek. I actually took two Vicodin and didn’t try to get back off the bed until almost noon. Nevertheless, I called into both meetings today and actually closed three or four tickets.
But tonight, it’s 7 PM, the temp outside is in the low 60s, the windows are open, the breeze is blowing, and the game’s coming on. Specifically, the Red Sox at the Giants, which is on channel 11. I don’t know why, but some combination of factors – the fact that it’s a local MLB team, the fact that it’s on a network affiliate in prime time in HD, the fact that Jon Miller has the call on play-by-play – makes me happy. This feels right. This feels like what a Friday summer evening in Silicon Valley should be.
Or it could just be the Vicodin. That hydrocodone’s a hell of a drug. Nancy Reagan can kiss my ass.
I have the vicodin too. Want things to really be right? wash it down with a Murphy’s. I’m just sayin’.