Ok, it's deer season. I'm happy for everyone who hunts. But this same person who can hardly get out of bed to go to work, is miraculously awakened at 3:00 a.m., bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to seize the opportunity to get a deer. I know it's exciting, and I have been similarly excited on a few occasions - Christmas as a small child, the day before my wedding, starting a new job, etc. Not once have I felt that way about walking 5 miles in the woods, in the dark, being cold, and knowing I would be sitting there for hours with nothing to eat and no bathroom. I guess I just don't get it. If only I could evoke that same excitement about painting the house or mowing the yard...
And worse than all that is each "play-by-play" I will hear at the end of each hunting day. The spot, the view, the wind, the deer that got close, but not close enough. Yet when I come home to tell some story about my day, leaving out all the intricate details, I am pretty sure he only heard every fifth word, and that is forgotten the instant I stop speaking.
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