I played golf. Damn, I can't believe that I waited so fucking long. Awesome time.
I played at a little local 9 hole par 3 course. It cost 12 bucks. All in all, a great place to come back to a game that I hadn't played in 8 years. This is especially so since I never made it to a driving range as I intended to shake off the rust before the round.
First hole, I got a nine. On a par 3 (6 Over!). How does one get a nine exactly? Well, shank your first shot into a tree and then be unable to find it. Take a drop. Then take 3 chips to reach the green. Then 4 putt. See? Easy. An inauspicious debut.
Next hole, I got a 5. Marked improvement. I'd be uneven for most of the round, but shot the last three holes birdie, bogey, par. Man, that was beautiful. Good times.
I can't believe that I was pussy whipped enough to stop playing in the first place. Easily the #1 development of my wife kicking me to the curb is my rediscovering golf.
Did I mention "Good times"?
P.S. I was playing with two of my co-workers, both Brits. Neither of them had seen Caddyshack. I couldn't believe it. "Funnier than Happy Gilmore?" Good lord, Britain is a backward nation.
No alarms and no surprises, please.