I'm Sick and It's Baseball

Playing in the background: Angels vs. Yankees, game 6. Go Angels!

Has anybody but me and Joan and Neil Degrasse Tyson noticed that The Los Angeles Angels translates as The The Angels Angels? Well, I guess nobody minds. Unbelievably, the Angels have made it to game 6 of the league champeenships, and for the first time in recent memory I'm actually watching baseball. Watching baseball on TV is kind of like watching golf, only faster and most of the fans aren't as well dressed. Baseball is a quintessentially American/Japanese/Latino/Carribean experience that just can't properly be experienced on the other side of a television camera. But, frankly, this is such a good series that it's almost worth it. I mean, the Angels? Hello? That's just too weird. And against the Yankees, no less. Damn Yankees. Oh, wait, that's a musical. I hate musicals. Go go boys boys!

I'm also sick, which is the other reason I'm watching baseball. When all you feel like doing is lying on the couch, baseball makes a nice distraction. Honestly, I haven't been sick since - well, probably two years anyway. Which is kind of a record. I used to clock in with a sinus infection about every six months, owing to my peculiar facial geography (one set of sinii unformed, another set deformed - surgery in 1997 to correct but I still Have Issues.) Maybe the last cold snap blew in some kind of allergen that got caught up my schnoz. I dunno, but I'm sick and it's baseball and the only thing I have better to do is finish the book (I'm on about the last chapter, with maybe some fine-tuning to go). One should not, however, write while feverish. Or while out of it, because I'm not technically feverish. One can, however, watch baseball. Which means that I've come full circle on that one.