1. Jumped out of my chair, ran around the living room and jumped up and down, while trying to refrain from shrieking for the sake of my neighbors.

2. Called Married Brother and yelled "YADY MOOOLINAAAAAAA!" Oops. Sorry, neighbors.

3. Talked to Married Brother until the commercial break was over (I still have no idea how the Mets got out of that inning and I don't care). Married Brother says he can't talk to me while the game is on. I hang up, remaining on the floor pillows where I sat while discussing how totally amazing that Endy Chavez catch was. Which is okay to admit now that the Cards are winning.

4. The Mets' first two batters get on! Decide to get back in the chair.

5. The Mets'make two outs! Good Decision!

6. Yan calls and asks if I'm freaking out. I tell her I am. Meanwhile, Wainwright walks the bases loaded with Beltran up. I tell Yan I can't talk to her until the game is over, less out of superstition than my fear I might yell something regrettable in her ear should something bad happen.

7. Beltran strikes out! Game Over! Call Yan back, then call home and talk to Mom until my heart rate calms down enough that I can go to sleep. This takes about an hour.

Three people I know who are not baseball fans watched the game last night because I've been so keyed up about it -- Yan, Lala (who called me after the Chavez catch, I just didn't hear it because I accidentally flipped my phone to silent), and Emm who now says she's going to watch the Series to see what happens. Mr. Selig, you owe me a recruitment fee. I do feel sorry for the Maths Wizard, the Hostess (this is what I've decided to call his girlfriend), and his friends who were also at the game last night. That was a heartbreaker to lose. I definitely didn't feel this guilty when we took out the Astros two years ago. But possibly my loathing of Roger Clemens overshadowed any kinder sentiments on that occasion.

Also unlike two years ago, I don't find myself all verklempt about this team, although when Wainwright opened his postgame interview with "I just could not let the team down in that situation," I got a little misty. It doesn't mean I'm not just as ridiculously proud of everyone and all the broken toes, concussions, bad ERAs and low batting averages they overcame to win this pennant when even their own fan base was happy just to not get swept. It just means I've got a bit more perspective this time. Getting back to the World Series in two years instead of fifteen will do that to you.

This doesn't mean however, that I'm immune from walking around with a giant grin on my face despite the fact that last night's drizzle still hasn't cleared out. Apparently National League Pennants are an FDA-approved replacement for sunshine. Who knew?