So, okay, England didn’t win yesterday.  Neither did my softball team last night (but we left it on the field, guys, we left it on the field – especially Kathleen, who bit it on the way to first and crawled the rest of the way to the bag and made it like the boss she is).  It was 97 degrees with 100% humidity and only one of the rooms of my house has air conditioning right now.  I have a chest cold that makes me sound like phlegmy Paul Robeson.  And I’ve got a best bud out west who’s wondering (completely rationally) what life’s deal is.

BUT.  In the plus column we have the following:

• Today is Friday.
• The mighty falling early in the World Cup makes room for awesome other countries to advance and we might have a very cool match on our hands with some first-tme winners.
• We’re playing softball again next week (and against a truly odious team – like, literally the worst team ever) and have a good shot at kicking their ass.
• The one room in my house with AC is my bedroom, so I’m sleeping very happily.
• Mr. Yankette finds the sound of a phlegmy Paul Robeson alluring.
• My best bud is also a cat-like badass.

So I’m take the long view.  Like the man says: “It’s cool when you freak to the beat – but don’t sweat the technique.”