Oct 10, 2005
Literally. I went to work with lots of hope on Friday morning. I looked a fright; didn't even consider the fact that I'd be going into public to see the game in the afternoon; didn't think this one was all that important; surely we would win tonight and push at least a 4th game. The Red Sox lost and I was in a bad place. So I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. I threw away college and law school notes I'd been holding on to for years. I read one last time all the scribblings between my ex-boyfriend and I during Mr. Pederson's class and then let them go. I threw out the big plastic container full of phone cords and blockbuster cards and first aid kits and answering machines that had been sitting unopened on various closet shelves for my last 5 apartments. You see, the Red Sox for me are wrapped up in all sorts of memories that I suddenly don't need to hold so tight anymore after Friday afternoon. Maybe it's just a coincidence.
Posted by wharman at 1:25 AM