I woke up early even though I didn’t have to, because I can’t help it, so why not drive to DC early, sneak in a National Park visit before my lunch date with J. and E.? Piscataway Park was lovely, but driving into DC wasn’t. Why people ever drive is beyond me–it just makes me anxious, and there’s no reason I should bother learning to deal with that anxiety. Take the bus–lesson learned. As I drove back into Baltimore, the lights were already on at Camden Yards, reminding me there was a game tonight. Driving makes me want to die, but a bike ride and a lazy evening watching baseball? Yes, please. I rode down here, locked up to a rack, bought a ten dollar ticket and a seven dollar beer, and settled in to watch my new team take on the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim in a meaningless game, for us, at least. That doesn’t mean I didn’t thoroughly enjoy watching us throttle them with five runs in the first, and this meeting at the mound didn’t seem to help. But we are only in the third, and this is baseball and we’ve got to get 16 more outs, so I best get another beer and some nachos. And then I can bike home instead of waiting to get out of the parking lot. Thank goodness.