Marriage Hiatus

I don't know if its that I forget what football season feels like, or if I am so deeply traumatized by it, that I somehow manage to erase it entirely from my memory during blissful Spring and Summer seasons with hubby, but I've been rudely awakened to the fact that it is once again upon us.

Preseason games have started. And with it, in our house at least, a slew of extra curricular football activities that seem to somehow fill a void that can only be filled by ACTUAL NFL games, that start in September. I compare it to a heroin addict, who until his needle can be filled, makes do with A LOT OF POT.

The "pot" part of the analogy begins in August, when Madden hits stores. Not that Madden hasn't been a permanent fixture of course. But Madden 08 has new features like "more lifelike plays" and it makes pizza. Also in August is the FANTASY FOOTBALL DRAFT. In case you don't know, I have been assured repeatedly by my husband that yes, this does require him to spend about $100 on various fantasy football magazines, research various players on line for hours at a time, and completely immerse himself in football reports from training camps across the country via Rich Eisen etc. on NFL Network. There was a time in my house when you switched on either of our TVs and you got Noggin or Nick Jr. Now, BOTH TVs seem to be permanently tuned to NFL Network.

And to prove my husband's tireless addiction is unrelenting, this year, just when I thought I caught a glimpse of him without his Packer t-shirt on (and slapping the veins on the inside of his arm in readiness), he informs me that he has joined a fantasy football league at work. Great. How much worse can it get? How much more of my husband can I lose for the next few months? Was I so cruel, so bad in a past life, that I must endure not one but two fantasy football leagues?

Clearly, I was Genghis Khan in a previous life. My husband is also scheduled to participate in the 2008 EA Sports Madden Challenge. If he doesn't win it, then there must be some fucked up, jobless, wifeless, lifeless dudes out there that literally play Madden all day.

Did I say Genghis Khan? I meant the bastart love child of Adolf Hitler and Genghis Khan. Hubby also does a Packer podcast! Yes, once a week, he gets to sit in a room with his best Packer buddy, drink beer and talk about nothing but the Packers for 3 whole hours! With somebody who knows what the fuck he's on about!

So right about now, he feels like he's been given methadone. But there's not long to wait before the real deal starts. For me that's such a treat, I can get down to the business of actually enjoying some real football games, eating way too many brats, and this season, thoroughly missing alcohol. And of course, being the shoulder for my husband to lean on when he discovers that a quarter of his fantasy drafts have early onset osteoporosis, or illegal hamster racing farms in Iowa. And I can't pretend I don't look forward to getting a brand new husband at the end of each season; pumped, fulfilled and raring to spend endless months of Sundays with me at Ikea.