Someone told me once that a day is a battlefield. Today, for example, you take the field—you versus all the gods of Wednesday—and may the best woman win.
Some days are better than others, some worse. But, much like baseball, there are certain contests that cannot decisively be called. Those days are a tug-of-war of minor skirmishes, dull scrapes and lesser victories. No one bothers to keep score until one side guts the other in an unexpected blow. Then your Wednesday becomes Antietam, for one side or the other.
But this was just a Wednesday. My victories were shallow, but they were enough to carry the day.
Some days are better than others, some worse. But, much like baseball, there are certain contests that cannot decisively be called. Those days are a tug-of-war of minor skirmishes, dull scrapes and lesser victories. No one bothers to keep score until one side guts the other in an unexpected blow. Then your Wednesday becomes Antietam, for one side or the other.
But this was just a Wednesday. My victories were shallow, but they were enough to carry the day.
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