Restoring the Balance

There are a bunch of men in my house.  Some of them, my husband included, are Steelers fans.  Some of them are Ravens fan.  Some of them are either wisely or cowardly bipartisan and laugh amicably at the sweat, red faces, grunts, squeals and finger-nail biting that has already transpired- and that's just at kick-off.  I, I, am not a football fan.  I am not a sports fan.  I have been a fan of a lot of things, but lately, I am a "I hope my daughter sleeps" fan. I am upstairs in the library, trying to drown out their manly chest bumping with soft music and white noise machines.  I love having people in our house, laughing and eating, talking and bragging. I love that people like to gather here, kick off their shoes and feel at home. However, I have already made death threats to the loudest laugher.  If one of them wakes my sleeping child with their outrageous display of masculine gloating or bemoaning, I am pulling the plug on this pepperoni and beer fueled gathering faster than you can say fumble.

I will return to reading Pride and Prejudice in my robe and slippers and drinking my decaffeinated Earl Grey in my china teacup to restore some sort of balance to my house.