Football season is here. Not just NFL football, but high-school football. And I am thrilled. "But wait!" you say. "You hate football. Despise it! Think it is possibly the stupidest game EVER!" You are right. Nevertheless, I am thrilled it is here. And I will tell you why.
By the time Friday night rolls around, I am totally knackered. All I want to do is come home and fall face-down on the couch/bed/any flat surface. I don't want to talk/interact/see anyone. Including my husband. Joyfully for me, Mr. Lewis covers high school football. In the south, this means one thing: Friday Night Football games. They are a religious experience around here, and I still do not understand why grown people who have no children in the school, no grandchildren at the school, nor any connection to the school whatsoever persist in attending these games. Please, I beg to know, what is the attraction? But that's another rant for another time.
Anyway...because Mr. Lewis is covering these football games, he is usually working until 11:00. Which for me means peace and quiet and solitude and bad t.v. with no one to make fun of me and possibly a nap and no making dinner and maybe a long phone call with someone I have not talked to in a while with no interruptions. It is a glorious evening. I really, really love it.
Beyond Friday night I also have Sunday afternoon to look forward to. Mr. Lewis is an unabashedly devoted Jets Fan. Seriously, he is really devoted. It's kind of sad since all they do is lose. However, because we live in Florida (and the Jets are a NY team), Jets games are not shown on regular cable TV. Oh no. They are ONLY shown at the sports bar where they have the satellite t.v. package. (conveniently located about 100 yards down the street) So Mr. Lewis has to trot himself over there to watch the continual slaughter. In his Jets jersey. And hat.
"Mrs. Lewis, you are MEAN!" you say. "Don't you WANT to spend time with your beloved on the weekend? After all, you both work, you are both busy, didn't you get married so you could be together?" Well, yes friends, we did get married so we could be together, but I did not get married so that every Sunday I would be subjected to hearing the yells and screams and foot-stomps (yes, he stomps his feet) that accompany the aforementioned spouse's watching of the NFL. So... off he goes. (Side note: I once offered to drive over and pick him up after a loss, but he told me "No. I need to walk this off". That is how seriously he takes these games and I ask you all: really?)
This separation on Sunday truly is a win-win situation for us both. I get at least 4 hours of lovely solitude and Mr. Lewis gets to yell and pace and eat things like a pulled pork sandwich or a "french dip au jus" or a bacon cheeseburger. With fries. These are things he will never see in this house on these plates and so he relishes them. Everyone is happy.
I have at least 3 months of all this bliss ahead of me. I plan to love and take advantage of, every minute of it. And that, my dear readers, is why I love football season.