After supper I plopped on the couch. The wife was doing laundry. I dozed a bit. I asked her if she wanted to watch some stuff we had DVR'd so we could watch them together. She said in a little while: she was re-arranging her closet. She really was, she had ignored and forgiven my earlier snarkiness. She knows my mood immediately after a long road trip. I flipped on the Cubs-Reds game while I waited. Jake Arrieta was tossing a gem. The Northsider's bats were pounding Reds pitching in the top of the third. The good guys continued piling up hits while the boys from The 'Natti did not.
The wife came down in the middle of the seventh. She dug out the popcorn maker and we watched the end of the game. She was not as excited to see Arrieta twirl a no hitter as I was. She does not understand the rarity. She seemed incredulous that the pitcher got so much credit when he had only six strike outs. I don't care, it was a masterful performance from a pitcher in the zone. I'm glad I saw it.
For no other reason than it is Friday here is a tune from one of the greatest movies ever:
I'm sure it won't be long before some genius in Hollywood thinks this movie should be remade and modernized. Instead of wild parties, the Delts will probably write mean stuff in sidewalk chalk.