It was the day when all right-thinking men turn their televisions on to watch hours upon hours of pre-Super Bowl football and then hours upon hours of Super Bowl football.
I am among them, though I watch the Phoenix Open golf tournament final round before I switch over to the battering game.
(Much to Baseball Steve's disdain. He has yet to appreciate golf.)
I had predicted the Los Angeles Rams would win the game, along with about 110 percent of the sports writers.
Steve had predicted the Cincinnati Bengals would surprise us all once again.
In the end, the Rams won, though barely.
And the golf tournament was won by Scottie Scheffler in a three-hole playoff.
It was an exciting win, almost as exciting as the one by the Rams.
But that's not what I came here to write about.
You see, like many women in this world, SWMBO is not a football fan.
On Super Bowl Sunday, knowing that I will commandeer the television set for most of the day and night, she holes up in her room and only comes out when I tell her she has to see this or that commercial.
So this morning, very early (somewhere between 6 and 7 a.m.) I crept out of the house and went to a grocery store where I knew I could probably purchase a New York Times.
And an Arizona Republic.
And a Prescott Daily Courier.
All newspapers she would read.
And then, because it was nearby, a visit to Dunkin', previously known as Dunkin' Donuts.
I happen to know she has an affinity for French Crullers so I purchased a half-dozen.
And then, because I was there, four Boston Kremes and a couple of Glazed Blueberry Donuts.
They were all insanely rich and delicious and way too many and way too much.
So tonight I feel like this.
How was YOUR Super Sunday?
