Foosball: Life is Over as I Know It

I can honestly say without hesitation or a doubt in my heart that the motor skill oriented task that I am the absolute worst at is the sport of foosball.

Foosball: What kind of word is it?

Some close friends call it "Foossh ball". I think it's just "foolish ball", mainly b/c my pride is damaged by my inability to score a goal. Well, okay, I've scored one....out of probably 876 shots or more. It was a miracle. I blame it on loose ligaments since childbirth - my grip just hasn't been the same. I find it difficult to open jars. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Life is over as I know it. My husband is getting ready to turn our dining room into a game room. My beautiful pedestal table is going out into the garage and moving in will be a new prize possession of his--a display of the male ego to be sure. Out with the gorgeous table...in with the foosball table. I give the guys about two weeks to break either the window, my china cabinet, or the mirror in my great great Grandmother's antique vanity. Then what?

Oh well, they are only possessions. (MY TREASURED POSSESSIONS!!!!) So I'll just lay back and wait. How long can this fad continue? Won't it get old? Eventually won't the guys come and sit with us a while and ask for some meaningful conversation? I hardly think so, but will continue to hope against all hope.