Local Man’s Wife Wants to Go to Farmer’s Market on Football Sunday, Doesn’t Understand Why That’s a Problem

"It's Like She Doesn't Even Know What Day It Is," Says Distraught Husband

October 11, 20241 Mins read42

A man sits on a leather couch in a dimly lit room, with his hand covering part of his face in a gesture that suggests frustration or contemplation.

In a shocking turn of events that sent one local man spiraling into a pit of existential despair, 34-year-old Steve M. was blindsided by his wife’s request to visit the farmer’s market on what he thought was an untouchable day: Football Sunday.

Steve, who had spent the last 24 hours meticulously planning his game-day snacks, was hit with the suggestion like a linebacker on a blitz. His wife, Karen M., seemed blissfully unaware of the sacred nature of the day, nonchalantly mentioning the market trip over breakfast. “I just thought it’d be nice to pick up some fresh produce,” she said, as if she wasn’t tearing the very fabric of Steve’s being apart.

“How could she not know?”

For Steve, the horror of the situation grew exponentially when it became clear that Karen wasn’t joking. “It’s Sunday! Football Sunday!” Steve exclaimed in disbelief, clutching the remote like a lifeline. “She looked at me like I was the crazy one. Am I crazy for wanting to preserve this one day of the week to watch six hours of grown men crash into each other at full speed?”

Steve, who hasn’t missed a single kickoff in 12 years, could not comprehend how someone he’s lived with for over a decade could have forgotten such an essential, unwritten marital contract.

“It’s like asking me to go to a vegan cooking class during the Super Bowl,” Steve lamented. “What’s next, brunch during the playoffs?”

A Marriage on the Brink

While Karen argued that the farmer’s market is “only open until noon” and that they could “totally be back by the second quarter,” Steve remained unconvinced. “That’s not the point,” he said, eyes hollow from the emotional toll. “There’s pregame commentary. There’s build-up. I need to mentally prepare for the stress of my team underperforming again. How can I do that while I’m haggling for organic zucchini?”

Karen, however, refused to back down, insisting that it was a perfect fall morning for a stroll through the market. “I just don’t see why we can’t compromise,” she said, clearly unaware that the word “compromise” doesn’t exist in the football lexicon.

At press time, Steve was seen Googling “farmer’s markets with TVs,” desperately searching for a solution that didn’t involve either of them filing for divorce.