In August at least,
there’s still baseball, however bad. In
November all you have is a gray sky and windswept lawns.
Every morning, I look
for the Transactions notices, always hidden, always somewhere different. Clare, child of a new age, gets the same news
from an app. Poor kid, that means she
has more time to think about miserable she is.
Valpo is located smack dab in the middle of a toilet bowl for weather. Who knew there was such a thing as a “snow
belt,” courtesy of Lake Michigan?
The general managers
will be meeting soon; that should be good for a few stories. And the winter meetings are next month,
although it’ll be Cubs, Cubs, Cubs, free agents and Wrigley. After that, January, and after that…
You get the idea.
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