Somehow I picked up the flu between Thursday night and Friday morning, and by the time I'd dropped Ciera off at school I could feel it coming on.
By lunchtime, I was curled up in the bed, shaking like an addict quitting cold turkey while running back and forth to the bathroom every five minutes.
If you've never been sick and trying to rest while what sounds like a thundering herd of wildebeasts is right outside the door, count yourself lucky.
As I drifted in and out of sleep, the Sox/Rays game started after a 2 1/2 hour rain delay, and in between visits to the porcelain train I got to see the offense come to life.
Three things my fever addled brain could compute while watching the game with one eye open:
1. Edwin Jackson is NOT the second coming of Bob Gibson, no matter how much the media wanted us to believe after last weekends series vs. the Sox.
2. Between Pedie, Ellsbury, Buchholz, Moss, etc..., the Red Sox future looks to be bright.
3. Even with the flu, a day with baseball is better than one without it.
Sox win 7-3, I can actually sit down and type for a few minutes, and I've got Remy and DO coming on my tv screen in about 6 hours.
It could be worse.
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