Sunday, Sunday

Real out of sorts today; to the point of feeling almost feel sick, even. I know a lot of it has to do with me looking at the clock every so often and saying to myself, “okay, now we’d be trucking over to UNH. Now I’d be walking the course one last time. Now I’d be tacking up. Now we’d be in the start box. Now I’d be thinking about trying to walk the stadium course” ad nauseum. NBC broadcast an hour and a half of Rolex (the CCI, not the modified), which I watched by way of consolation with a lump in my throat.

But, in reality, I know that feeling out of sorts is much more preferable to the stress and sheer panic I’d have felt all week as the horse trials drew closer had I actually stayed entered...

[Redacted]

Well, Sunday night 'must-see’ t.v. is coming on: some drag racing, The Sopranos (now with more Buscemi!) and lastly, Deadwood, which I love even more than the Sopranos or Six Feet Under or even the ooky Carnivale. Damn HBO for sucking me in so thoroughly.