Telling signs

An excellent indicator that Boston is in the World Series is my inability to adjust the time on my Seiko. Due to a nervous, disturbingly cannibalistic habit, I have an insufficient collection of rigid tissue at the end of my fingers to pry out that wicked small knob on the side of my watch. Not having “mother nature’s screwdriver” handy at a moment’s notice is terribly inconvenient.

Now I just have to remember to wash my hands before the game tonight and I’ll be all set.

As it turns out, it may be a good thing the hockey season doesn’t go off this year. I’m not sure I could handle the stress.