It is ten a.m. and I have just woken from seven hours of uninterrupted sleep. I went from deep sleep to fully awake in the blink of an eye (two of them actually). Why? Because I must live through another game seven tonight. There are ten hours until the first pitch and already I’m worried. This is what it means to be a Red Sox fan, even if baseball isn’t my favorite spectator sport. It would be just like the Red Sox to do something spectacular like being the first MLB team to come back from 3-0, then lose in game seven.

Yes, hope can be a cruel mistress – particularly in Beantown.

Now with my nerves already on edge, Cheryl has offered to get me a cup of java from Starbucks on her way home. Foolishly, I said yes. I’m sure THAT’S just what my stomach needs.