It’s been a quiet Sunday. I haven’t left the house, and didn’t feel the need to put on a bra. The doxies are wearing sweaters for the first time this season, and the extra warmth is making them sleepy. Sweaters! They’re like blankets that you take with you!
I’ve worked. I’ve read. I’ve done laundry.
And now? Now, I’m freaking out just a tiny bit.
My Facebook wall is alive with the question: Cha Cha! What will you do Dec. 28? Who will you root for – your life-long loves, the Iowa Hawkeyes, or your beloved alma mater, the Mizzou Tigers?
Yes. My two teams are playing in the Insight Bowl.
Well, I know I’ll wear black and gold. But other than that?
The first time I cried over sports was when Chuck Long lost the closest Heisman race in history to Bo Jackson. I was in fifth grade, and not sure what to make of my anger and hurt. Evidently, I channeled it into a healthy grudge: I still hate Bo Jackson.
The first time I attended I football game at Missouri, I laughed at the crappy stadium. I was a college sophomore and just learning the joys of a pleasant buzz at sporting events. It was like riding a bike without the training wheels for the first time.
I grew up in Iowa. But I blossomed at Missouri.
Maybe I won’t watch the game. That’s the day My Guy and I close on our house, and we will probably be cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. Or, if I do watch the game, maybe I’ll watch it with my hands over my eyes, like how I watch horror flicks. Because that’s how I’ve watched many Iowa games this season – lots of times, they played like doo-doo.
Or maybe I’ll multitask, doing stuff around the house while the game is on. Because that’s how I watched many Mizzou games this season. Let’s face it – many of their games were like watching paint dry. Not hatin’, just sayin’.
At any rate? As if the nervous anticipation of Christmas wasn’t enough, we’re closing on our house three days after Jesus’ birthday. And now, I can firmly plan my fangirl mental breakdown for the same day. How convenient.