Dear pest control service salesperson: Do you know what kind of pest control I'd like? The kind that deters pest control service salespersons from ringing the doorbell loudly in the middle of the grandkids' afternoon nap. Can you help me out here?
They're all extra-sleepy today because last night we took our annual family trek to Progressive Field to watch a Cleveland Indians baseball game, which this time featured the Indians clobbering the Kansas City Royals. We all enjoyed one memorable play that my daughter described as "the catcher playing Whack-a-Mole," and she's a former catcher so she would know.
Conditions were not marvelous for a fun game, thanks to a massive heat wave that made the stadium feel like a blast furnace at first. We sat up in the nosebleeds above first base and played Pass the Grandkids when they got antsy, and we all drank plenty of water, so a good time was had by all.
My son rode his bike in that heat this morning to raise money for cancer research. (Still not too late to donate!) I had intended to go cheer him across the finish line this morning, but apparently I picked up some nasty stomach virus somewhere so instead I've spent most of the day so far either shivering beneath a pile of blankets or running to the bathroom, which is why I was available to answer the door when the pest control service salesperson rang. It would be horribly cruel to hope she picks up my virus, so I won't, but I'm tempted.
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