I watched more football this weekend than I know what to do with. I watched more football than should legally be required by a wife who doesn’t much care for watching football.
On Saturday Michael and I went to a going away party for a friend who is moving to Seattle (the lucky cuss!). We went over early so we could watch ASU play someone. Then we watched another game where Arizona was playing, then we switched over to watching a game with Notre Dame. (I was once made fun of as a child for pronouncing this “Noh-tra Dahm,” as in the cathedral. Who knew?) Don’t get me wrong, there were other activities. The menfolk had a tournament of beer pong outside, but since it was a choice between watching beer pong in 110’ (a mid-September record) heat or watching football inside while curled in the corner spot of a comfy couch with chips and onion dip, I think you all know which route I chose. Besides, there was an adorable kitten that was such a cuddler, so I wasn’t physically required to be watching the football the entire time.
Am I painting myself out to be anti-social? I wasn’t. I did give Michael some advice in a peanut-gallery-esque way (“Darling, you need to throw your pong ball with more loft! They’re killing you guys because they’re coming in at a better angle!”). I fraternized with a new couple while eating a delicious bratwurst on the edge of the pool. I sang “Ring Around the Rosy” with a friend while she danced around with her daughter. Then we talked about the possible creepy origins of the song.
Then I fell asleep on the couch during one of the football games, but I thought I’d probably gotten away with doing it secretly. Sally, owner of the house and mom to the hostess, was trying to stop Russ, her husband, from changing the channel to the Notre Dame game. “Someone else might be watching that game, or wanting to see it!” she cried. “Like who?” Russ argued, who I’d probably heard mutter 10 words total all day. Sally looked around the almost empty room. “Julie might.” “She’s been sleeping!”
So my nap hadn’t gone by totally unnoticed, it turns out. Michael at least reassured me that I hadn’t been snoring.
Sunday we watched the Cardinals play someone and the Colts play some people with cool helmets, and I know the Patriots and the Jets were squeezed in there someone. We had the pleasure of JP’s company, so I decided against retreating into a bedroom to read or craft or do anything else other than football.
So I end this blog post with a plea: Michael, I implore you, let's please do something else next weekend?