I know I’m not the only football widow, and I know now – since the publication of My Husband Betty – that I’m not the only ‘worst of both worlds’ widow, either. Oh no. I know there’s Heather, who just sent me a lovely email about her own ‘Betty’ watching the game “in stockings, heels, and a nightie.” But I’d forgotten about playoff season, when there’s more football on than episodes of Law & Order. After yesterday’s screams and howls brought on by the Indiana/Pittsburgh game, Betty decided to try on some clothes a friend gave her while watching today’s game.
It’s like genius-level torture, having a skinny woman in my house trying on new clothes while she watches football and I clean the catboxes.
(She does vaccuum when and where I ask her to, though. I’m trying to figure out how to get her to vaccuum without me asking, next.)