Dear Golf, I Totally Hate Your Guts
I totally hate your guts. I can’t stand that you’re such a ridiculously long game. I don’t understand why you make people drive hours to play your courses. You’re too expensive; your equipment, your clothes, your fees are like a black hole for our hard-earned money. I’m fed up with your driving ranges, your 9-hole game, and your dreaded, nasty 18-hole game. I am sick and tired of you, my kids are tired of you, and we want you out.
Who has an extra Saturday or Sunday for you to steal the precious morning or afternoon hours? I know I don’t. No way—there are places to go here, people to see. We are only minutes from our Nation’s Capitol. My children love to take the Metro, so we could stop off at the Museum of Natural History and see the dinosaur bones or the Hope Diamond. We could spend a weekend afternoon at the National Zoo, visiting the pandas, or maybe we could ride the carousel on the Mall and hang around the White House, hoping for a sneak peak of Barack, Michelle, Sasha, or Malia.
Baltimore and Annapolis are only a short drive away. The Inner Harbor is beautiful; Port Discovery and the National Aquarium in Baltimore are awesome places for weekend visits. My kids have never seen a show at the Imax Theater in the Maryland Science Center. They would love it. (Be quiet, Golf. . . I’m on a roll now.) My kids would talk about the boats in Annapolis for days. They’d love to see the Naval Academy and eat icecream on a bench by the water, watching the yachts sail in. Nationals Games? They love ‘em. O’s games? They’d take one of them, too, in a heartbeat. They’d even go Minor League, for goodness sake. Frederick Keys’ games totally rock.
I can’t forget our own Montgomery County parks. We love to visit Brookeside Gardens and play with the butterflies there. Packing a lunch, our bikes, and some balls is all we need to do for a fun Saturday at any one of our nearby picnic areas, parks, or lakes.
And if we don’t go anywhere, Golf? You think then it’s okay to sing your siren song around here? Nope. You’re wrong. We’ve got a master bathroom that’s been half-finished for months now. Our drawers are full of clothes we have to go through so we can pull what we don’t need and give it to the Goodwill. Our garden is in the middle of being planted, and our garage is screaming to be cleaned. The curtains, screens, and windows haven’t been cleaned for months (gulp!), so keep clear! I can’t have you running around my place, Golf. No way.
Don't think for a second you're any better showing up on my doorstep mid-week, either. After a long day, you're no good coming by before--or after dinner--so that I'm rolling solo for bed and bath. A straight twelve hours and counting? For you? Ooooohhhh, no you don't.
How about you disappear for a good long time so that we’re not tripping over your clubs, balls, and tee’s in our backyard and that huge and annoying net of yours isn’t taking up an entire side of our yard? I’m so ready for you to be gone, Golf. An hour here, an hour there—maybe I could take you in small doses, but no more of that whole-day tournament stuff, those five-day trips, or that impromptu outing that eats up half of our weekend. Enough!
No, I’m not bitter, Golf. I’m just ready to take charge of our precious, fleeting family-weekend time. And maybe, just maybe, Golf, when my kids are older and I’m not so busy—and tired--all of the time, I may invite you to come back again. And if you’re really lucky, some day down the road, I just may let you bring me my own set of clubs--as long as they come with some cute clothes and shoes.
Until then, Golf, adios.
This is an Original DC Metro Moms post.
Amy M. isn't always such a cranky brat about her husband's favorite pastime; sometimes she's actually excited about his interests--when they involve her, shopping, or a nice dinner out somewhere. You can find her usually in a more peaceful place at teachmama.