Headdesk

Headdesk is a word my daughter, Angela, uses to express frustration with things--usually her daughters, but not always. Well, today I am using her word to show my frustration with Angela Gary the world, oh OK, with myself. Yeah, I am banging my head on my desk. Mostly to knock some sense into myself. Partly to knock the cobwebs out of myself. And, partly, just because I can.

I am warning you in advance, this pertains to Fantasy Football. Again.

Thursday night was supposed to be our draft night for Gary's work league, but we drafted on Wednesday night instead. An in-person draft again, which I really hate. I am much more at ease making decisions in the privacy of my own home, in front of my own computer, in loose clothing, no make-up, and crazy hair. (Hence, this blog)! Besides, I am going to be the only female in a league of eight people. Really makes me feel uneasy. Don't know why, don't care. Fortunately, two of the men didn't show up, so I was only outnumbered 5 to 1.

I got comfortable on my bar stool and prepared my draft papers. (That's a half-truth. I did prepare my draft papers, but there is no way a 62-year old woman can get comfortable on a wooden bar stool.) The draft started, and I was next-to-last to draft. Great. All the best running backs were gone. So I took the top quarterback, my fav, Aaron Rodgers. My team was starting out on the right note. And that's when it hit me. The stupid stick. Apparently, it hit me over and over again for the rest of the draft. I don't remember.

What I did realize, later that night, is that I drafted two running backs with a 6-bye week, two running backs with a 7-bye week, and a wide receiver with a 7-bye week. This would be OK if I had 35 players on my team. But since I only have 15 players, it was too stupid for words. Really. I now have no way to move guys in and out of positions when needed. Gawd. Help. me. And, to add insult to injury, I drafted a kicker who is hurt and cannot play. Brilliant.

Now, this particular league is a money league. Which means it cost me Gary $70 to enter. Gag. And I have to pay to trade players. OUCH. Which I will have to do next week to get a healthy kicker, not to mention the fortune I will spend when bye week #6 rolls around. So it's no wonder that I was sleepless Wednesday night, thinking about all the inane decisions I made during the draft, and how I needed to correct them. In the morning, Gary told me that I need not get too anxious about the running backs and wide receivers right now. He said to wait and see how they play--that way I would know which under-performers to get rid of. That did help calm me. In fact, I got so relaxed I was able to take a really good nap on Thursday. (Of course, I can take a really good nap any day of the week). Thank you, Gary, for coming to my rescue again. See, I knew I married him for a reason. (And besides, he didn't get mad over the fact that I needed to spend money right away to take care of my boo-boos. Bless his sweet heart.).

So I still have to draft for the family league. This will be an online draft on Sunday night; I am tempted to let it auto-draft for me. (That way I can claim innocence and not stupidity when I get a crummy team). Anyway, I was feeling happy that it was the last draft I would have to do this year. Hold on. Yup, wait just a gosh-darn minute. Gary talked me into another league--how the hell did that happen? And this one requires that you bid on players. Charming. Good thing that it is pretend money you use for your bids. But, I don't think that is going to help me much. Sigh. I think I need to just say no to fantasy football next year, don't you?

I will be back in a couple of days to show you my new card that is being created as we speak. Well, not really. But I do have some things figured out for it, and I am going to my craft room now to work on it. So stay tuned. And, pray for me, please. I obviously need help.

In the meantime, I wish everyone everywhere a great holiday weekend!