It is September, but there were warning signs before hand.
Weird scratches on the calendar, odd smells coming from the bathroom, sheepish looks around and hockey pools being drafted. Emails from 8 Rinks. There were signs of this coming....
So hockey season is here and Colin is back in the swing of his own hockey team. They way these guys revere hockey above all else is a bit frightening. The state that they let their gear get into is an abomination to public health. The stories of goals lost and found. Trips to the emergency room for both minor and serious injury. The wicked smelling hands creeping under the covers at night. The assault of the senses as the kids and I make our way down the gauntlet of putrid gear airing out (above the kitty litter box no less - and still the gear smells worse) on our way to the car.
I feel a bit unprepared. My washing machine has been put into double duty washing hockey gear in anticipation of this blessed event. Which begs the question - where has the gear been sitting since the end of last season and why for the love of God did you not clean this stuff out back in April? The tears in my eyes are not from frustration but from the sheer FUNK of the gear hanging in my bathroom.
Another gift from the hockey Gods is that they sometimes schedule games at dinner time - which means that we don't see Colin until the next day (after you factor in game time, 'cool off', and trip to the pub and transit). If it were not for the rank smell of his entrance into the matrimonial room I would not wake up when he arrived back home.
So welcome hockey. I am going to sign my boys up for soccer as I can not bear the thought of dealing with 3 sets of RANK FUNKY gear hanging in the garage.