4:20am - Wake spontaneously ten minutes before 4:30 alarm is scheduled to go off, thinking "this is it." Lie there for ten minutes praying tonight's game does not go to overtime.
4:30am - Resign self to fact that if game *does* go to overtime I need to make sure my health coverage pays for all ulcer and/or heart medication.
5:00am - Arrive at work, check score of Detroit/Phoenix game. Decide that if Detroit won, it was because of the experience on the roster. Calculate the amount of Cup-winning experience for the Habs versus the Caps and relax slightly.
6:10am - Read the sports news out loud. Feel the "burning/freezing" feeling in my chest that Dryden describes getting when he thinks about Game Seven in Chicago in 1971.
6:30am - Break at work. Thinking about what needs to happen for the Habs to win. Conclude Jaro must be insanely good, and Habs must hold off Caps through what's sure to be an onslaught in the first ten minutes of the game.
6:31am - Hope there are no late-period goals or shorties to deflate the Habs.
7:35am - Work's been busy. Haven't thought of the Habs in more than an hour. Think of them and hands start sweating.
7:36am - Wonder who the Caps are starting in goal, and hope whoever it is sucks tonight.
7:37am - Hope Boudreau cries when it's all over, and not from relief.
8:16am - Work's a distraction, but not enough of one.
9:05am - Eat breakfast. See Ovechkin's face in the Cheerios and lose appetite.
10:00am - Meet guest I'm interviewing about something completely unrelated to hockey. Conduct interview. Manage to bring conversation around to Game Seven. Guest doesn't seem to care. Conclude guest is a heathen.
11:12am - Think about how the Habs need to get the first goal to put some real fear into the Caps. Realize stomach knots have untangled themselves and have been replaced by a serene sense of confident anticipation.
11:15am - Confident anticipation back to burning/freezing nerves.
12:10pm - Leave work. Go to buy fabric for frog costume son needs for spring play. Can't find any, so buy him a Habs t-shirt instead.
1:00pm - Lunch. Still no appetite. Can't stomach Chicken Knuble soup or Ovechicken salad. Thinking about a liquid lunch instead. It's five o'clock somewhere.
1:30pm - Get ready to go for a run. Air smells like spring. Fresh and clean and ready for playoffs. Thinking the Habs can do it.
1:31pm - Fear the Habs can't do it.
1:32pm - Sternly remind self to be positive. No matter what happens, they're my team and I'm proud of them.
1:33pm - Briefly wonder what I'd be doing if I weren't a Habs addict?
1:35pm - Write all this down so I can get it out of my system.
3:30pm - Stole quick nap. Tired enough to actually sleep for a little while. Dreamed again of Habs in Cup Finals. Woke up and thought it was real.
3:32pm - Realized dream not real. Nerves about tonight back in full force.
4:00pm - Dropped one kid off at music lessons, realized I'd forgotten birthday party invite for another kid. Debated what to buy birthday child, decided seven-year-old girls might not enjoy Habs toiletries gift set.
4:30pm - Put supper in the oven. Think of having some wine and cheese to start in memory of Boudreau.
5:18pm - Just over three hours before game time. Stomach churning. Wonder how the players cope with this, if I'm this bad.
6:02pm - Turn on the news. Game Seven included in the promos. Seems everyone is picking Washington. Think Everyone can go to hell.
6:38pm - Two hours before game time. Actually thinking Habs can do it. Rocking the Pleky shirt, like I did for Game Six. Will have one German beer during the second period, also as I did for Game Six. Totally giving in to superstition at this point.