It was a quiet fall Sunday. The leaves were falling, the air was crisp, and church had just gotten out, which only meant one thing. It was time for some football.
On their drive home, he turned on the pregame commentary to get the lowdown on what his team needed to do in order to win. It was the same thing, control the line of scrimmage, establish the run, and make sure you don’t make any stupid mistakes that can haunt you in the long run.
“Honey, why do you listen to this? It’s the same thing every single Sunday..” she asked.
He turned to look at her, “Because babe, I like to know that we actually have a game plan this year unlike last year. and the year before that!”
She rolled her eyes, and turned to look out her window.
As they parked in the garage, he hurried into the house to put on his “lucky” shirt that hasn’t been washed in a few weeks.
“Why do you wear that every Sunday?”
“Babe, this is my lucky shirt…. We’ve won every time I’ve worn it.”
As he turned and walked to the living room, she rolled her eyes and headed to their bedroom to get changed into her comfy clothes.
A few minutes had passed and she was 30 pages deep into the book she had started after a work friend had highly recommended it. Trying to focus on what she was reading she heard, “Hey babe… can you bring me a beer?”
Frustrated that he broke her concentration, she yelled back, “Why can’t you get it?”
“We’re about score and take the lead going into halftime, I can’t move!”
“Can you wait until half time to get it then?”
Rolling her eyes, she walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, she grabbed a Bud Light. Walking over to where he was sitting, she opened it, and before he could even say thank you, she took a drink and said, “it’s 2019, get your own damn beer next time.”
Dumbfounded, he looked at her and said, “But the game is on…”
Turning her back to him, she put up her middle finger and walked back to their bedroom.