8 AM Sunday Morning. Sinatra is on the iPod and I am drinking coffee.
The Chancellor is at her Mothers after seeing old High School Friends last night and I have the morning to myself.
I Spent the last few days in Broomall visiting the folks and seeing my siblings and some old friends. It's strange seeing old friends like that after all those years. I spent a lot of time with these people until I got married and then poof! We never see each other anymore.
We've decided that we should all get together for dinner in March. I'm not sure this is going to end well because a common theme to the chats over the past two nights was "we should be dead". Maybe it's good I didn't see them.
Earlier last night the siblings and I were talking about what a joke the whole Tiger Woods thing is. Sex Addition. Are you kidding me? This a clearly a rich persons disease just like exhaustion is. You never hear "Miguel the gardener has checked himself into the hospital for exhaustion". Likewise you never hear that a guy in your son's scout troop is in rehab for sex addition. It's only people with too much money.
If you are man you are sex addicted.
And what exactly is the treatment for sex addition? Cutting back to three different women per day? Then slowly two and finally you get to graduate and "ring the bell" when you down to a single affair? Do you sit in a group and talk about it? (Listen, you won't believe who's here). Even in group, the Perkins waitress has to be an embarrassing episode.
I have a simple cure for Tiger. A week with the Chancellor.
Good luck sleeping with one eye open, Tiger.
There would be a totally different news conference in week, more along the lines of "I have been cured".
Maybe I'll set up a clinic on the Cul-de-sac.