I was a wee bit emotional the other night and this had manifested itself in crying. Hysterically. For a little while. Hubby said: “I have something that might cheer you up. It’s an early Christmas gift.”
And then he showed it to me: The confirmation number from an online order of…a share in the Packers. As in, the Green Bay Packers. You know, my team.
Immediately my sad tears turned to happy tears. Husband.Of.The.Year.
So, now that I’m an owner of the Packers, today’s game took on new meaning. When I was shouting at Aaron Rodgers to get rid of the ball, I truly believed he could not only hear me but would heed me. And when I yelled at Mike McCarthy to take the first-stringers out to avoid injury and give the second-stringers some much-needed practice, I all but searched my cell phone’s phonebook for a number for Lambeau’s sideline.
It’s good to be (partial) boss. Go Pack Go.
(Our daughter, as you can imagine, already has MORE than enough baby-Packer gear. So much, in fact, that part of her closet looks like a GBP gift shop.)