I’m back from a 40-minute in-between session walk through construction zones and sleepy rural areas.
Two white-haired women, one sitting on her bum legs out like a child playing with their toys, worked in her garden, whereas another held her phone up and took directions from YouTube to spray paint two pieces of furniture an antique white on her back lawn.
A squirrel with a nut ambled, and a stinky urine-scented juniper bush reminded me of one my Dad blew up years ago ridden with African bees. I held my phone and watched Hulu Live to play the Mariners and Astros game and as I walked, I wondered – slightly paranoid – who else was doing the same? The two guys, shoulder to shoulder with hands to their faces and elbows rooted at the table, were likely in my camp. But, the construction workers sweeping rocks? No 710AM radio buzz for them.
It’s a tie game, and I’m nervous. I focus intently on the sharp edging of a lush lawn and a blue brain-shaped wad of gum stuck on a picket fence to balance my attention with the game.
Now that the M’s are leading 2-1, I’ll go into my 2 pm session with a calm mind. But I’m not above putting a shoe on my head if it comes to that.
In one hour, it’ll be the eighth inning; a good fast forward past the roller coaster pitching and batting duels will be good for my health.
I don’t want to talk about it. Just know I’m sad and could use your consolation. Thank you.