This past weekend, something was different in our house. Something that hasn’t happened since, I’m not sure exactly, but sometime last summer. We had a weekend without football.
And the strangest thing happened – we did things together. We talked. We went for a walk in the sub-freezing outdoors. We cleaned the house. We read books. We worked on crosswords. We went shopping just to look at things without really intending to buy anything (see Rhiannon, it can be done, and it’s even fun in a way).
Last night, as we were getting ready for bed, I thought about what we did on Sunday alone. Rhiannon prepared for her week at school. We went grocery shopping and prepared food for the week. We washed, dried, folded, and put away four loads of laundry and some clean clothes that were still lying around from last week. We vacuumed carpet and cleaned the kitchen. We still had time to watch a movie and saw a little golf on TV.
I think we accomplished a lot and spent some good time together. Even Rhiannon, who is beginning to suffer from a head cold, thought we had a productive weekend.
We’re planning on watching the Superbowl next weekend, but after that…
Nevermind, after the Superbowl, Arena League football starts. Whew, that was scary, because, I mean, I really like football, and this touchy feeling housework stuff was really starting to threaten my masculinity.
And too much of a good thing is… well, it seems it would be really good, but apparently it isn’t, so football it is.