The third month of the year, containing 31 days, 15 of which are consumed by college basketball.
That is my definition of March. I used to think it came in like a lion and went out like a lamb. It gave me reason to drink green beer. At one point March signified the end of winter, but now it means background noise of whistles, squeaking shoes, and cheering, weeks worth of kissing my husband goodbye as we part to watch T.V in opposite rooms, and the ever dreaded pressure to create a bracket. For me it starts around March 5th and goes something like this:
March 5th– Crap, two weeks until March Madness.
March 12th– The first time I shoot down creating a bracket.
March 16th– The second time I shoot down creating a bracket.
March 18th– Fine, I’ll make a bracket, but I’m making it based on what teams I want to win, not what is actually realistic. Looks like this-
Yea, that’s right, I picked them according to which mascots I liked better. It got really hard when faced with the possibility of a Wildcat going up against another Wildcat so I had to mix it up and throw a Badger in there.
March 20th– Husband wants to go out to watch the games. See ya! I’m watching Glee.
March 21st– The first round results are in. Don’t care.
March 22nd– Husband informs me that one of my final two was upset. Sounds great, I’m trying to read.
And so on.
I understand how not being a big sports fan in general may cause me to not fully grasp the importance of this tournament, but is it possible that weeks worth of basically 24 hour college basketball is just a bit much? If we were to reexamine what March can mean, does it make sense to sit inside and mindlessly watch basketball when it’s finally sunny and warmer outside? Argh!
It’s fine. I think I will just add it to the list of things that I don’t understand about life, right under why God created spiders. Thankfully, it all ends April 6th. Wait, that’s opening day for baseball. Sigh…