Today, after missing it for two consecutive years due to not being sufficiently committed to in-the-loopness, I finally made it to a Punk Rock Softball game. I realized that no one who does it really likes to call it Punk Rock Softball, which is appropriate. I probably diminished its punkness by my mere presence, and the fact that I wigged out and brought significant amounts of food to grill on my grill. It was fun, lasted all afternoon, and I realized that while I never had enough baseball ability to please my dad, I’m good enough to be middling at an informal drunken game of softball.
The game ended with a tie, since folks wanted to get gone and watch the Cavs playoff game, but I went to look at a couple of houses, one of them for the second time. I really like it, it is a two-unit on a nice street in South Tremont, in solid condition, needing, for the most part, superficial and cosmetic adjustments. I’ve been calling on my experienced neighbor home-owner network for support and information, and I still need to sit down and recrunch numbers to make sure I’m ready to go; but, for the most part, I’m excited to be moving forward with my life. Maybe before the year is out, I’ll actually have my own dog! Although home-owning isn’t very punk rock. Or maybe it is, from a certain perspective.