it was a brisk, but pleasant, early march day in connecticut today. after a few hours of the normal mindless tedium, i needed out. outside, that is. i'm not sure what inspired me to go to the driving range and hit some golf balls, but it was of no significance. i didn't care why i thought of it, only that i had.

in four minutes i was at my destination. i wasn't sure if the driving range was open, but i looked around the empty building and noticed a yellow banner affirming me it was. the half snow-covered and almost entirely muddy parking lot made me doubt said banner. were it not for the two cars strategically parked in a small, dry, gravel covered portion of the lot, i surely would have gone back home.

i grabbed my clubs, two irons and two woods, and headed over to the "shack," for lack of a better description, to get my bucket of golf balls. there was, of course, nobody else at the range except for the two employees, both fleece clad and playing basketball on a crooked, rusty rim which was too close to the ground and nailed to the side of the shack.

i paid the guy five dollars for a bucket of balls, and selected my spot. as i lined up the first ball, it occurred to me that i had forgotten how to swing a golf club correctly. so i just swung away, hoping for the best.

the ball skipped away along the ground.

having no semblence of what i might be doing wrong (or right, for that matter), i thought, "eh, i'll remember eventually."

the next fifteen to twenty shots all followed in the footsteps of the first.

finally i hit a ball in the air, although not very far. i watched it all the way until it fell straight down, where it splatted into the ground. right after that, a strong chilling breeze reminded me that it was winter, and that a black t-shirt, no matter how much sun i hoped it would soak up, is still a t-shirt... and that i am a moron who was playing golf in a t-shirt in winter on a windy, overcast, fifty degree day.

my idiocy now apparent, i kept swinging cluelessly. slowly and steadily, less of my shots skimmed over grass and mud, and more of them were airborne, and i thought to myself, "man, i suck at golf."

i finished up and handed the empty bucket back to the the guy behind the counter, and i swear he was laughing at me internally. when he said, "thanks, man," he might as well have said, "what the hell is wrong with you you dumb-assed retard?" but, that wouldn't have been a very nice thing to say, so "thanks, man" sounded good to me.

regardless, i got into my car feeling good about the fact that i got out of the house. then i turned on the radio and heard mike and the mad dog talking about the steroids controversy in baseball, and i thought, "i should probably write a blog about this."

well, you just read it.