Yesterday. Sunday. A typically dull day of laying around the house watching tv or movies and eating sweet meats. However, there was a change in the usual … I played tennis with Abel.

Most people who know me know that my athletic capabilities don’t surpass that of throwing dirty clothes into the laundry basket and missing half the time. So my attempt at playing tennis was laughable at best. So picture this:

First — I┬ádon’t own a pair of tennis shoes or sneakers. I have sneaker-esque shoes but are not meant for athleticism of any kind except for shopping and driving (my kind of sports). I also do not own white socks. I know, I know … really stupid. But I have no need to ever wear white, so I threw them all away cuz they were 10 shades of funky. Additionally, I own one pair of shorts … blue jean shorts … because my legs are chalk-white — and altho they are quite sexy (in the dark), I never wear anything that would expose my legs to public-view.

So we finally go to the tennis courts. I haven’t played tennis in 16 years. It was a bit of a new experience for me. I understand the logistics of tennis and how it works … but all that running and hitting the ball into a specific spot … hell no, bitch. I was drenched in sweat. I was hit by the ball TWICE. Once in the face, one in the arm. I kid you not. And I almost hit myself once — like the ball hit the side of the racket or something and shot up into the air above me, but I couldn’t find it until it dropped like two inches to my right. Scary times, folks.

So no bruising — and I was having fun. Abel was disappointed with my lack of tennis skills — and I’m sure those playing in adjacent courts had a ball watching me, something they will likely pass down to their young for generations and generations.

Will Abel attempt to play tennis with me again? Who can say. My guess is no — as I think it was more ball chasing than anything. But I had fun nonetheless.