I cannot believe it. It has been two weeks and counting since I last went bass fishing. “Yeah, so what,” the normal person is now saying. But it must be understood, I am not a normal person, something my wife would be more that happy to attest to. So after pondering the passing of those days I have come to the conclusion it has all been a subversive act on the part of my wife. And she is not yet finished. Despicable!
Though she tolerates my bass fishing, I can’t help but feel she views it as a mistress, and will do whatever it takes to keep us separated. This last couple weeks proves this out. First it was a four day camping trip to the ocean. That was fine and good, and, I admit, enjoyable. Then she found some distant relative who died. So, of course, she drug me, screaming and kicking, to her memorial two states away, even though I personally never knew the woman or anyone at the memorial. I think the most interesting conversation I struck up was with some gentleman telling me about his butterfly collection. Making certain I knew each genetic species kept me riveted! That was another four days, and is a memory I’ll try my best to forget. And now she has signed us up for four days at a bed and breakfast. If she doesn’t soon give up on this obviously well-thought-out scheme then I refuse to be held accountable for what some might consider a mental break down. I call it fishing withdrawal. Whatever one chooses to title it, my wife and, sometimes, neighbors have been witnesses to it in the past, and will be the first to say that often it is not a pretty sight to behold, and sometimes frightening.
If anyone read my post Fighting Fishing Withdrawal, you’ll know exactly what could happen. After that, you can be the judge of whether my actions are considered excusable. Anyway, I am getting the oh-so-familiar urges that I have to do something fishing related. And now that I think about it, I guess this post is the first step in the appeasement of that withdrawal.