Sometimes it's better to light a flamethrower than curse the darkness

Short version:

• snuggling in bed with my lovely boyfriend, being the little spoon, holding my phone up for both of us to watch

• skip the first half while people are watching the first two episodes of Murderbot
• join in just in time to see the score go from 3-0 in favor of the other team, to 4-0 but then 4-1
• go make tea and come back to find it's now 4-3
• in about the seventh inning, reluctantly take yourself off to bed at the end of a long day
• find your boyfriend lying there reading, many hours before you can usually expect him in your bed-
• snuggle up to him and watch a couple of scoreless innings
• forget to breathe several times as Jhoan Duran pitches uncharacteristically terribly in the top of the ninth
• watch the fastest man in baseball steal second and third and assume there's no way the Twins will get out of this without giving up a run now that it's 90 feet away (stealing third was the point where the Twins had their lowest win probability all game since they started scoring runs at all)
• heave a huge sigh of relief when that last out is recorded, 1-3 on a routine grounder that didn't feel very routine
• feel every muscle in your body clench during the bottom of the ninth as the Twins keep messing around (a lot of swinging for the fences, leading only to a couple walks and a couple outs)

• watch Brooks Lee get his first walk-off (with a good hit that got past a diving infielder and could've scored Jeffers from second if they needed, if Bobby Witt had scored in the top of the inning like I feared, but that turned out not to be necessary) and be the happiest little puppy as his team mobbed him, his hair's immediately a mess, his jersey is half-unbuttoned already somehow, they're throwing extra Gatorade on him while he was doing his sideline interview...it's so adorable

• watching the Twins win and getting to kiss my lovely boyfriend in celebration