There was a forced march yesterday morning that led to such a feeling of well being and fundamental fitness that by mid-afternoon four of six people in the house were unconscious and snoring. There was good reason. Pre-season baseball was on the TV and what better way to celebrate that first game and the Sox pulling one out over Baltimore than by sleeping through most of it. And I entirely missed the most important aspect: "Boof Bonser tossed two scoreless frames." I love supporting a team that pays a man called Boof. But it was not all about me and not about Boof. There was also that greater respect one needs to have for the immortal words of Billy Wordsworth, godfather of all nappers, who wrote:

For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude,

And what flashed upon my own inward eye? The eagle. There was a particular reflection upon seeing that massive bald eagle that circled and floated about the park and the realization was that while we were being treated to a moment with nature, it was stalking us and lining us up as food. Conclusion: it's safer in the basement