Impending Doom

Every Saturday, I get more and more apprehensive. I know that’s a sign of some of the issues that I have, but this has nothing to do with being crazy or sick or any of that crap. No, this has to do with the fact that as the days become shorter, they draw ever nearer to the one day that I loathe almost as much every Saturday (although sometimes it will be a Friday or a Thursday) for 3 months after that date. That day is the beginning of Auburn’s football season.

His grumpiness will, of course, be screaming at the referees and the players and the coaches because they didn’t do exactly what he would have done in the situation. He does not remember that he has not played football since, well, ever. (Not including any of those intramural games that he might have played.) He is a football genius, in his mind, which also makes him a football critic.

So, for the upcoming season, I must remember to do the following:

  • Wake him up an hour or so earlier on morning game days. This means I must keep a more regular sleep schedule and not oversleep at all…ever.
  • Stay in one spot unless it is time for a commercial break. If my body is between him and the television, then I will never hear the end of it.
  • Stay quiet during the games. My voice might interrupt him from hearing someone else’s voice saying something that might not even be related to the games.
  • Pray early and often. Whether or not God exists, I pray regularly during football season. I pray that Auburn wins. I pray that Alabama loses. I pray that if Alabama wins, don’t let Dad kill us. I pray that if Auburn loses, don’t let Dad kill us. I pray that if Alabama wins and Auburn loses, don’t let Dad kill anyone and everyone he has ever known. I pray that the Prozac actually works this week. I pray that Dad will tell his therapist that his anger is getting worse. I pray that Dad will tell his therapist that his depression is also getting worse. I pray that we don’t have to watch games that are between teams that we don’t even care about. I pray that I can run to the bathroom and back without being between Dad and whatever game is on. Basically, a lot of stupid little prayers.
  • Don’t wear anything resembling crimson, gray, or white with red or gray on it. These are Alabama colors, and are forbidden during this season. It made some high school stuff hard since my last high school had crimson as one of it’s colors.
  • As obsessive as my dad is, so are most of my friends from real life, so Facebook will be even more hell-like than it was before.

I bet I get through about 5 minutes of football season before he starts yelling. Even the season that Auburn was undefeated, Dad has fits.

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Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.

2 thoughts on “Impending Doom”

  1. I am so sorry you will have to deal with all that crap. Does he not know (or care) that his attitude and “vibe” is causing even more added stress?

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