22 Millionaires vs 3 Braincells
I’m currently in a conference with myself (which happens disturbingly often these days) about whether or not to watch those wealthy ball-chasing gentlemen on that green field at 10 PM.
Normally I’m asleep by then, because otherwise I turn into an emotionally exhausted, slightly unstable bitterball the next day, trying to manage the remaining daily nonsense with only three functioning brain cells.
Should I take a nap beforehand like a 100-year-old?
Only to wake up at 10 PM feeling completely sedated and suddenly realizing I no longer care about those orange lunatics at all?
So maybe that’s not the solution.
Or should I do one of those naps that 80-year-olds somehow manage to take?
Which, in my case, usually results in not sleeping at all, making the entire exercise completely pointless. Because if you’re going to stay awake until 10 PM, you’d at least like to retain the ability to distinguish a football from a referee’s whistle.
So it is increasingly looking like I won’t be watching after all.
That way tomorrow I’ll still know who I am, while wondering why on earth I didn’t spend my evening watching 22 athletic millionaires pretending they know how the game works, while in reality mostly running after each other’s salaries.
