baseball season started at four in the morning. my darling christopher slept on the couch last night so that he could wake up by four and watch that first game. he came into our bedroom at six-thirty in the morning to talk about the devil rays, who apparently only have one team member named 'ray.'

i understand liking baseball, but i don't understand such extreme passion. it's kind of inspiring, in a "why can't you be more passionate about other things too?" sort of way. what would i wake up at four in the morning for? brian regan? newsradio? a flight to vegas? a sub sandwich with all the fixings? i don't know.

i'm considering composing a letter to our upstair neighbors. it will begin, "dear fatasses," and go on to detail how i have heard every step and movement that they have taken. the two adults don't leave the house during the day, ever, and so i will also enclose information on how to jump start their careers by becoming truck drivers.