There is an endless list of things that winter is not good for; my mood, my coloring, my wardrobe, my weight. But I'm happy to overlook the entire list, because winter is good for evenings and weekends full of Mr. Diagnosis Deferred. We sleep in and take road trips and traipse through the city. We meet friends for brunch, catch up on netflix and stay out until very late if we want to. It's perfect.
Then comes March 15th... and golf season. And rain or shine, he's gone. Vanished. Poof! Friday afternoons, Saturdays and Sundays are all about smacking the $hit out of a silly little ball. It's enough to give a girl a complex.
I am a golf widow before I've even become a golf bride.
Image from here.
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