My relaxing days at home disapeared today for two reasons. One is that I am sick, congested, and I feel as though my head weighs like fifty pounds. Then there was the arrival of a letter from an attorney, and yay Uncle Douche is in charge of mine, my sisters, and my cousins inheritances from one of our Uncle Bobs. What the fricking hell, he isn't even in the will... Oh, wait a second, a $250.00 letter, you couldn't at least proofread to make sure you spelled the name of the deceased correctly. Its Hartwick, not Harwick you moron.
Oh, well nothing I can do about that until monday. So today, I think I am just going to say a few words about batting. So if you would not like to read my musings about batting, well then, just ignore me for now.
Batting, its such a stupendous wonderful thing...
Alright, screw it, I am too annoyed to write about something that makes me feel elated. It feels as though maybe writing about it with this over my head will turn it into this monstrous thing that I won't be able to do. I can't do that to my bat, to the batters box so perfectly lined in white chalk with the smell of sunny heated turf rising off of it.
Sorry.
Laurel Lee
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