I used to really like to play golf. I got excited every time I got a chance to play. And I used to be pretty good at it. Not great by any stretch of the imagination, but pretty good. Not any more. I don't play much, so it's hard to get into any kind of rhythm when I play. But when I do play, I vaguely remember being decent. I guess that's why it's so frustrating.
After 27 holes on Wednesday, I considered putting an ad on craigslist for my clubs. Maybe somebody else could get some good shots out of them. Heaven knows I sure haven't lately.
Every time I play like I did today, I ask myself why I want to do something that gives me so little pleasure. Why in the world would someone do something that makes them feel so inadequate? Why heap that kind of mental punishment on yourself?
Maybe I'll take up tap dancing.....