There's something decidedly...daunting...about confronting the realities of the work place after the most perfect long weekend imaginable. The projects awaiting completion seem particularly mundane,and tasks "left for later" three short days ago, now cry out for immediate attention. All the while I'm trying to hang onto the memories of those three fleeting days, each one a picture perfect tableau of cobalt blue skies, bright sunshine and warm, dry air. We played golf each day. The courses weren't too busy... it seems Labor Day barbecues and family gatherings kept the masses occupied... so were able to take it easy, play for fun and enjoy our Ultra Ambers. We had sumptuous outdoor dinners on Saturday and Sunday evening and lunch in the garden at our favorite French Bistro yesterday.
Then there was the Deutsche Bank Championship and the memorable golf it yielded. The Tiger/Phil rivalry rekindled. Admittedly, I don't like Phil Mickelson. I don't like him at all, and for a very good reason: he absolutely reminds me of a guy I went out with in high school, who was a jerk. OK, I know it's a visceral reaction, but I can't help it. Every time I see Phil I think of...well I won't go into the sordid details, but suffice to say I find the very sight of Mr. Mickelson quite disturbing. Well, it seems I might not be confronted with those memories of my adolescent misadventures at the BMW Championship next week; Phil's hinting that he might be a no-show.
Damn, he does remind me of my old ex-boyfriend. ✩