It's a disease, and I can't help it. I've tried every cure there is, but I'm not going to fight it anymore. I'm just going to give in and wallow in the ups and downs of the misery that an addiction creates.
After dinner tonight, I practically slung the dishes in the dishwasher and then crept stealthily up the stairs, hoping hubby was so engrossed in television that he wouldn't wonder what I was doing. He doesn't understand my addiction, and he doesn't know how to help me. Most of the time he goes along placidly, but sometimes he puts his foot down. Tonight was one of those times, which is why I had to sneak upstairs.
I gingerly picked up the remote control and tuned the upstairs television to a college football game.
A game which I attended in person.
It's one of the most replayed games in college football history, particularly the play when UGA had a 3rd down and 10 from the eight yard line, when Buck Belue hit Lindsay Scott for a 92-yard touchdown run to seal the victory over Florida and keep Georgia undefeated on their way to a national championship. It lives in the annals of Georgia football lore, particularly the recording of the inimitable Larry Munson calling the play.
It is replayed every year during the week leading up to the UGA-Florida game in Jacksonville, and I watch it every time I can. I tried to get hubby to record it tonight, but you have to stay on the same channel, and for some odd reason he REFUSED to watch a football game from 28 years ago whose outcome he already knows. Men.
I tell myself it's just a game, but I don't listen very well. I get overwrought and overanxious, and that's just in the days leading up to a game. Last week I thought I would have to be sedated before UGA played LSU. When Georgia intercepted the ball on LSU's first play from scrimmage and ran it back for a touchdown, I jumped up and screamed, the cat took off hissing, the dog took off after her barking, and I burst into tears.
Katydid and I were there last year for Georgia's improbable victory over Florida, and we didn't have our voices for days.
I swear I didn't choose to be this way. ***I'm not making this up.*** One of my earliest memories is of me sitting on the floor in front of a black-and-white television watching a football game. I had volume "F" of the encyclopedia open to "football" because it had little pictures of the referee's signals and what they meant. (This is in the days before the referees wore microphones.) I couldn't have been more than 10 years old. Okay, so I didn't understand it all. I thought a "screen pass" was so called because it didn't go further than the size of the television screen.
Hubby and I are going to Jacksonville for the Georgia-Florida game this weekend, staying with Sweet Girl (who wouldn't let me stay at her house for the game last year and even had the audacity to suggest I sell my tickets, but that's for another post).
I will try my best to tone down my anxiety, my nervousness, my excitement. Because hubby isn't so convinced that it's a sickness.
He just thinks I'm nuts. Men.