Transplanted Life
Saturday, October 04, 2003
Half an hour to go...
Four years ago, the Red Sox were down 2-0 in a five-game series and pulled it out by coming back to Fenway and laying an offensive hurt down on the Cleveland Indians. No reason history can't repeat itself.

It just sucks that I'll be watching it alone, though. I've gotten used to doing this with Kurt, and even without the sex afterwards... Well, the thing is, baseball is a game with a lot of dead time. That's not a complaint; part of the appeal of the sport is the social aspect, that you've got time to discuss the game and anything else with someone while you're watching it. Watching it alone isn't as much fun; I usually wind up in chat room or posting on Baseball Primer's Game Chatter forums in that case.

I talked to Kurt yesterday, just on the off-chance that Denise wouldn't be coming up this weekend, but he said he had to go out of town. So he's probably in Springfield with her, watching it, or not, with her. Meeting her folks, even.

Which makes me wonder: Does Michelle even have folks? I snuck a look at her - "my" - employee information at work yesterday, and I don't have a "call in case of emergency" number. There's another Garber listed in the little New Hampshire town on her driver's license, but whoever she is, she hasn't called me and I'm afraid to call her. If she is some sort of relative, I'll have no idea what to say, and if she isn't, it'd do me no good. That seems to be what happens any time I try and get information on Michelle, or witchcraft, or anything to do with this situation - anything that might be good stuff just seems to risky.

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