You know, time for men all across America to come down with a bad case of football-itis, as Tarah likes to call it. Sometimes the football fever is so severe that they turn into crazed barbarians.
They don't even look like themselves anymore.
My husband gets couch ridden with this sickness every fall. It never fails. You'd think being sick, he'd care less about what he was wearing, but nope, not at all. He becomes so delusional with football-itis that he puts this jersey on and all of a sudden, he thinks his name is Steve Smiff and starts pretending he's the wide receiver for the Carolina Panthers. Then he start hootin' and hollarin',
"Time to get a T.O. BABY!!"
What's a girl to do? I'm just an innocent spectator watching from the sidelines. Don't get me wrong. I don't mind all the football hoopla. I'll root for my Carolina Panthers, even when they're not feeling the football fever themselves. What can I say? I'm a loyal fan. And a very very supportive wife. There are times when I'll fight through the pain and sit with my husband, asking him to break it down for me. Oh, the things you do for love. It's either that or I'll have no choice but to become a football widow til someone says they're going to Disney World.
So I'll sit & wait & I'll ride this wave out without interference.