Soccer Withdrawl Just What Do I Do With My Eyes Now?

It was an odd day today and I found I really couldn't figure out what to do with myself. For the first time in twelve days there was no soccer on TV. For the first time in twelve days I wasn't planning my lunch hour around catching at least one half of a game. I walked past the lunchroom this afternoon and, upon hearing a the sound of crowd noise, instinctively entered the room, looked at the TV and asked "what's the score" before my brain could even process the image I was seeing. "Fifteen love", I think someone said. It took me a second to realize I was watching tennis. This was the first time in twelve days I actually finished reading both the Star and the Globe and Mail on my lunch break. (I skim over a lot). I shuffled my potatoes around on my plate till I realized I was setting up France's 4-5-1 formation from yesterday. I wandered through Nathan Phillips Square, saw a few distinctive replica jerseys and felt my mouth dry up. I saw flags flying from car windows and developed itches I couldn't seem to scratch. A drunk, smoking a cigarette and wearing a worn out, dirty T-shirt with Brazil printed on the front asked me for some money and I said only if he can dribble past me like Ronaldiniho. I felt pretty bad about that one. It's like the last time i quit smoking. My mind sits in this cradle of haze and I find it hard to concentrate. Which can be bad, especially when crossing the street or drinking hot, hot coffee. Maybe I should just stay home until Friday. Re-watch the tournament on Rogers On Demand. I know it’s probably akin to licking heroin residue off a spoon but hey, what are you going to do? I am an addict and I am beyond redemption.