Billion-Dollar House of Cards

This morning, I woke up feeling chunky and stiff all over, worried about bills and deadlines, resenting the two-hour commute ahead and sensing a head cold coming on.

To make myself feel better, I kept repeating: “At least I’m not Tiger Woods.”

As a semi-horrible golfer with a huge handicap in financial planning, I never thought such a day would come.

Drugs? Lovers? “Sexting?” He has money, fame, a bikini-model wife, cars, a mansion, a ripped physique and an unprecedented golf game … and that’s not good enough?

The Softball Coach showered, yanked a wrinkled shirt from the closet, pulled mismatched socks from the underwear drawer (laundry day!), dressed, kissed my lovely, cooing wife goodbye and limped off to the train station.

Lucky and happy to be me.


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