Phone calls to Mr. Bean's brother are frequent during games. Boys are invited over to our house to watch the festivities. And I can't carry on a conversation with any of them except possibly during the commercials. It all depends on how horrible or awesome the play was before the commercial break.
Halftime is my saving grace, but is occasionally trumped by a quick snooze to prepare for the second half.
The final preseason game is on tonight. Its conclusion marks the beginning of the football season and brings along with it temporary widow-dom for me and millions of wives across the nation.
Should I start a support group for this?
