It's that time of year when I drag myself out of bed every morning by 4:00 or 4:30am and go out to the family room, turn on two lamps and the TV, then settle down on the couch to watch live matches from Wimbledon. Usually I fall back asleep and dream about tennis. (During the warmup tournament this year, I actually had an erotic dream about Andy Murray during his final.)
I'm just hoping this year's men's final won't end up routine, like the women's is going to be (another Williams sisters match, hopefully a good one). Maybe this year the Queen will actually be in the royal box!
Puhleeze, Andy, win tomorrow. I mean, Andy, lose tomorrow. (Andy Murray and Andy Roddick . . .) I'll be listening on Radio Wimbledon. Because as is routine for us on the West Coast, we won't get the match live on TV.