Surprises. I’m not sure how I feel about them. If it is a surprise cookie — preferably peanut butter chocolate chip — waiting for me at work, I’m all in. If it is a surprise left by a dog, I’m all out.
My week started with this text message: “Derek, I think you may want to sit down for a little fantasy advice and player picking with Janet this week!!”
As the alarm went off on my phone, I contemplated remaining in bed. It was 6:30 a.m. on Labor Day, and for those who know me, there is only one 6:30 in the day that I am familiar with, and it’s not the a.m one.
I didn’t plan on spending part of Thursday afternoon chasing a ferret around the Clarkston Apartment, but there I was caught in some kind of game with Otis.
Opening up the mailbox and finding a white jury notice postcard is a mood killer. I received mine during the summer and, since I coach baseball during that time, got it shifted to January and February.