the most wonderful time of the year

NOT.
It's finals time. My poor Doggies are in the four and we're not up to it. It's going to be a long fortnight.
J is at one end of the house watching his beloved (ahem, he doesn't even cough up for a membership AND he couldn't care less about them when they're not winning) Pies thrash my darling Bulldogs (the only time I've not had a membership was when I was so broke I couldn't afford my health insurance) while I watch a scary Dr Who at the other end of the house.
I spend a lot of time sucking stuff up, rationalising, accepting and reframing. My job is helping people see things in a more functional way. Well you know what? No-one can do that all the time. Footy is where I don't pretend. My visceral, emotional six year old is allowed out. It's Not Fair. This Sucks. Everyone Is Mean To Us. Why can't WE ever have the upset? Waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!
Yes, it's irrational, no, it doesn't make sense. You can laugh at me if you want. But I bleed for my Bulldogs. I do care. I Am Upset.
So there.
More anon, heart-on-sleevers!
P.S quantities of sparkling shiraz may or may not have had an influence on this post. I admit nothing.