With the start of the World Cup 2006 at 00:00 hours last Saturday, my hubby has effectively 'moved out' of our bedroom to camp instead in front of the telly in the living room. He's traded our matrimonial bed for a red divan in the sala where he now sits or slumbers or munches for most part of his time at home while watching the soccer games.
Yes, I have become a soccer widow. During this month when the games are on, I must fend for myself, amuse myself, make do without a coherent chat partner at home. I must not include him in plans that may take him out of his divan during evenings nor expect to get proposals to do something fun during the weekend. The day, after all, is when he catches up on his sleep.
All told, its pretty much like being single again, only this time, I have no TV privileges.
I still don't get though how he can say that he is watching the game when he's dozing most of the time. You know how it is. I catch him dozing and let him be, thinking he needs the rest anyway. Then a long moment later, I go check on him again and find him still dozing. Thinking that he might want a deeper, more refreshing sleep, I wake him up to urge him to move to the bedroom instead. He awakens and looks blearily at me and announces that he will stay where he is, thank you very much, because he is still watching the game.
Watching the game? Who's watching the game? His toes, maybe? Cos he surely wasn't! Is dozing in front of the TV really considered watching the game?
Which reminds me that this isn't my first experience with men slumbering through some game and then refusing to budge when you ask them to relinquish the seat or the remote. My own brother (when he was a boy) grew up practically hogging our only TV for his sports and detective serial viewing.
When we were kids, he and I had a rule about control of the TV for the day. We agreed that whoever got to physically plug-in the set every morning would have control of TV channels for the day. I thought the rule was fair, especially during summers when we got to watch a lot of TV. I thought it would work too since my folks insisted that we unplug the set after every use. So it was just a matter of getting up early every day to plug the set first, right?
Wrong. My brother found a cunning way to gain the upperhand. One summer day, he woke up really early and plugged the set in. Then he just camped in front of the TV -- ate there, slept there, kept it on when he was bathing, whatever. The set could be off but the plug stayed in while he went biking with his friends, played marbles, getting into his many scrapes. The plug was never unplugged for much that summer and many more summers after that. If I unplugged it or if my folks did, he would claim that since he didn't unplug it himself, then it was still his turn at the TV. So practically no chance for me to watch what I wanted!
And yes, even when I'd quietly turn the channel (no remote then) to watch a variety show while he was sleeping soundly, he'd still wake up right then, insist that he was watching his show and promptly turn the channel back.
Now my sympathies go out to my sis-in-law. I sure hope she gets remote control privileges once in while. :-) (And pls don't allow Waji in the future to hog the TV to the displacement of Jela! Cos I swear, if that happens, I'm going to buy her her own huge, kick-ass TV myself!)
Anyway, lets see how this World Cup schedule pans out for the husband. All told, I really have no cause to complain. He's home, he's happy and content. That's all good to me. After all, as he often reminds me, the World Cup comes only every four years.
I was desperately looking for the name of the woman who started the Jimmy Choo luxe shoe business yesterday and so went online to hunt for the elusive name. After a few seconds, Google Search not only spewed out the name (Tamara Mellon), but also this interesting story: Bloggers open up about money matters. 
