Feet firmly in hot shoes, toes barely reaching the carpet floor, I sit back on the couch. Blankly staring at the TV as my eyes shift quickly between the computer screen and the Detroit Red Wings / Buffalo Sabres hockey game. There's less than a minute left, 53.3 seconds to be exact, and the Wings just iced the puck. The net is empty 200 ft from where the action is about to take place when the time out is over. Datsyuk is back.
My feet are burning n these shoes, but they are cool and wet from the rainy doorstep I had to walk through to get home, my legs too short to step over the puddle. The wind was furious, howling as I tried to find the light switch on my right coming in the door. Patrick sat on the bottom stair waiting patiently, greeting me in the dark.
The Red Wings have won the game. A referee has retired. Detroit is howling, like the wind outside my door, as their playoff potential has become a little more solidified. I hope that Columbus makes it too. They lost today, I hear.
I become chilly as I settle in for the night. Goosebumps run from my elbows to my shoulders, down to my fingertips as I become distracted with television but still type my blog for the night, which appears to be getting longer but does not appear to be very long at all.
Maybe I should change my socks.
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