In my house, we have four TVs, but the living room is obviously a key stronghold for any football fan. That’s where the largest TV is at, as well as the DVR, allowing me to pause the game to get a beer, chips, a slice of pizza, beer, etc. (Did I mention beer?). When it’s gametime, I need to be on the couch, game on, beer in hand, with plenty of room to scream, jump, dance, compain, or throw said beer (OK, maybe not that). Being in a bedroom, with frilly curtains, frumpy pillows, fancy sheets, and fluffy animals just isn’t conducive to watching football (although the bathroom proximity is nice). Unfortunately, she feels the same way about reruns of King of Queens.
I’m currently working out strategies to be able to hold onto the living room as my home base. She won’t go without a fight though. First, I have to make the first move, and be the first one to acquire the target, i.e. the remote. In order to do this, I figure I’ll need to awaken at 0400 hours and be there when she gets up. First come, first serve. In addition to that, I’ll need to be sure and not give up my position. I’ll probably need to have a toilet installed next to the couch, or radical bladder-enhancement surgery (I never get spam for that kind of enhancement). Secondly, I’ll need to survive the offensive maneuvers she counters with. She’ll complain about something that needs done (or more likely was supposed to be done that I forgot). Then she will grumble, just under her breath mind you, so that I’ll have to pause the game to ask her to repeat herself. Then, failing that, she’ll drop the bombs, and I mean F-bombs, trying to run me out of the position I’ve fought so hard for. If I can survive those waves, I might just be home free.
Today is Cincinnati’s first preseason game, so I decided to put my plan into action. I woke up, slipping silently out of bed, and peeped around the corner to see if the coast was clear. I then tip-toed my way into the hall, being sure to cover my tracks in the carpet. Once at the living room entryway, I rolled behind the couch. It was quiet, too quiet, so I made my move. I leapt over the couch, grabbed the remote, turned on the NFL Network, and held on for dear life. It’s now an hour to game time and it looks like I’m going to make it. I’ll be able to watch the game in the good room, near the food, on the big TV. I’m the winner. OK, so she’s not at home today, don’t kill my gameday buzz.
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