|I'm not saying I don't love our team, but could you stop texting my soul mate?|
Ahh, the warm weather is finally upon us. The implications of this sweet deliverance from the cruel beast that was winter is three-fold.
1. This past weekend was the first I'd worn sandals in six months. I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize for any emotional trauma caused to innocent victims caused by looking at my feet after their long, winter hybernation.
2. I can roll down the windows and pretend I'm driving a Mustang and not a minivan.
3. Husband I start our traditional spring separation.
Who wants to hear more about my feet?
Baseball it is, then.
Of course, it's not a separation in the typical sense, although I do get full custody of the children.* But when the first snippets of announcer banter crackle across the TV, and Husband's eyes stop looking like the sea and more like baseballs, I know I've lost him until September (or August, depending on our loss ratio).
*Please see me about the "Take three children for the day, get free peanuts and cracker jacks" deal we have running right now.
After seven years together, I've grown accustomed to games every night, him yelling at no one in particular (unless I really was responsible for trading our outfielder), and gentle whispers in my right ear. "You're in my spot. You know I always sit on the left."
But where the relationship was previously and clearly understood, the hand of technology stepped in and poked it's finger at the delicate balance with an iPhone.
The other night, I'd just passed out face down, contentedly drooling in my pillow, when a "ping" made me jerk my head up. "Wha- Why- Who is texting you at midnight?"
Husband didn't bother picking up his phone. "It's baseball."
"What does baseball want? ...Wait, how did the Great American pastime learn to text?"
"It's just my fantasy stats."
"You wanna know the status of my fantasy? Not being woken up by a sport when I'm having a perfectly agreeable dream about danish."
We've moved into brand new territory, Readers. Not sure how I feel about this one. I know how I feel about danish though, so that's still pretty concrete.
Today's post was brought to you by Scorebig.com. Because cheaper tickets for things is better than more expensive tickets for things.
SB: Would you be interested in tickets for something you'd like to see?
Me: As a matter of fact, baseball's been texting husband lately, so if you could get me something so they could hang out in person, that would be great.
SB: Our pleasure.
Me: No, the pleasure's all mine. I'd rather take Husband to a Royals game instead of wondering way things that aren't people are trying to contact him at indecent times.
(Seriously though, it's pretty great. Pick the tickets you want, tell them what you're willing to pay, and they get you hooked up. The moral of the story being, if you're getting wierd texts in the middle of the night, check out Scorebig.com.)
Until Next Time, Readers!