Sox @ Sawks -- Duque vs. Chinbeard

The Widge come up with an RBI double, and it's 5-2 good guys.

My shower drips incessantly, and I'm too lazy, and too bad at plumbing, to fix it. The result is the shower has become a haven for all types of creepy crawlies. Usually it's been limited to a spider here or there and the rare mosquito, but the one that really got me was a cricket.

This particular cricket kept me up for much of the night. He wasn't the chirping type of cricket, but rather what I'd refer to as a 'singer.' He would play this one note, without interruption, for minutes on end. He was natures version of Kenny G, without the really bad haircut.

It wasn't just that this cricket was making noise that was getting to me. No, this cricket had found his own personal amphitheater. My shower was the perfect size and shape for this cricket to project his love song at a volume impossible to achieve in nature. This Cricket must have taken physics or something, because let me tell you, he knew a thing or two about resonating frequencies. -- Wine glasses were breaking, windows were cracking, neighborhood dogs were barking; it was madness.

So I set out on a crusade to exterminate this nuisance. The problem being, every time I stepped foot in the hallway, the cricket went dead silent. Sure I knew he was in the bathroom, more specifically the shower, but I couldn't find him without that piercing note to guide me.

After repeated attempts to find him, followed by me slinking back to bed only to be roused by the same shrieking noise, I turned on the shower and plugged the drain hoping to flush him out. -- This seemed to work, for a while. He didn't wake me again that night, but he was back the following day.

I'm happy to report that the cricket is now (presumed) dead. When taking a shower on Friday, I caught the little bugger scurrying up the wall trying to avoid the spray. I caught him, ripped off his chirping legs, and have been sleeping soundly ever since.

Now, lets get back to baseball and win this game.