Chronicles of a Red Sox apartment:

I'm sitting in the living room, half watching the game on NESN, half working on a project at my laptop. A Red Sox rally has temporarily pulled me away from the project, but I consider it a justifiable diversion.

Big hit. "WOO HOO!" I feel the typical silliness when I realize I'm cheering in an empty room, until I hear clapping from the back room. C, also getting some work done, he electing to listen to the game on the radio.

He comes scurrying into the room, his sock-clad feet sliding on the wood floors a second before he falls into the couch cushions. "The broadcasters are going nuts, so I need to see this hit."

We watch the replay, cheering and grinning. He lifts his hands to his head, to adjust the brim on an imaginary cap.

"I need to get a new hat," he says. "I left my other one in Beijing."

I nod. We pause for a moment, silently noting the imaginary elephant suddenly standing in the middle of the room. Do I remark on it? Of course I have to.

"Extra points for you, being able to pull that off. 'Oh yeah, you know. I left my other one in Beijing.'"