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Football and Racing and Baseball . . . Oh My! |
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© 2002 - 2006 Carole Moore |
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Now that fall is here, my poor husband goes to work on Mondays exhausted by the frantic pace of his weekends. Take this most recent one, for example. |
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On Saturday, my spouse arose at the crack of 10 - no sleeping in for this whirling dervish - and spent an hour reading the paper, drinking coffee and plotting his day, with the help of the sports section. Then he casually asked what I had planned. "Oh, I'll be doing the usual - cleaning, washing clothes and writing," I said. "Why?" "Oh, nothing," he said. "I just thought I'd catch the Notre Dame game. It's the only thing I really want to see." My husband's a huge Carolina buff, but ever since Notre Dame hired a coach from Jacksonville, he's decided that when Carolina's not on the field, he'll root for Notre Dame. So he went outside and spent about 15 minutes blowing the acorns off our deck, much to the annoyance of the 7,482 squirrels living in our backyard. Then he tossed the blower back into the shed, and once again threw himself into his recliner. I passed by him several times while traveling from my desk to the laundry room. Finally, about four hours later, I stuck my head in the door. "Is the Notre Dame game over yet?" I asked. He looked suspiciously like he was asleep to me. "What?" he jumped, scattering potato chip crumbs all over the carpet. "Just wondered if the Notre Dame game was over," I repeated. He squinted. "Uh, let's see, uh, no." I checked back with him several times and all I can say is that Notre Dame is one strange team. Every time I looked they were wearing a different-colored uniform. But boy do they have stamina! That Notre Dame team played the entire day, nonstop. Wow! The next morning he climbed out of bed and cleaned up the den so he'd have a fresh, clean space in which to scatter miscellaneous food crumbs. Then he watched the pro football games, the races and the World Series. By the time he crawled into bed, the poor thing was completely worn out. But I can understand why. After all, he has so much to do on game day: the pre-game warm-up (popping that first bag of popcorn, lining up his beverages, reading all the TV listings and the sports page of the paper) and then, when the game starts, adjusting and readjusting his recliner, punching all those buttons, making more popcorn and sandwiches, falling sleep in his recliner. It simply wears the man down. |
