Watching the World Cup on the Clock and Questionable Dinner Decisions

FIFA World Cup 2026. What a time to be alive.

The USA kicked things off with one hell of a start, absolutely dominating their match. It’s probably the best I’ve seen the men’s national team look in many years. The women’s team is always out there kicking ass, though. Honestly, I prefer watching women’s soccer. They generally play with so much more heart.

So I watched a lot of matches over the weekend. I probably could have been more productive, but after last weekend’s hectic pace—and with soccer on—why the hell should I be? I watched Brazil tie Morocco, Scotland beat Haiti, and Germany destroy Curaçao. The best game of the weekend had to be the Netherlands versus Japan, bar none. Just a fantastic match from start to finish. That was a fucking rush to watch.

Sunday afternoon brought some torrential downpours. I kept seeing flood advisories throughout the day and never really thought much of them. It was sunny, hot, and we only had a slight chance of rain—nothing that screamed “flood.” Boy, was I mistaken. For once, the early flood advisory wasn’t an exaggeration. Usually those warnings amount to little more than a puddle and disappointed wannabe meteorologists. When the rain began to fall, I honestly wondered if it was ever going to stop.

There was nothing gradual about this system—the bottom just fell out. Cats and dogs were falling from the sky. I had a river running down my street at its peak, and my yard looked more like a lake than a lawn. It also reminded me of the damn drainage issue with my neighbor’s property flooding my yard. I really need to figure that one out.

Afterward, I drove around to survey the aftermath. It had indeed flooded. Roadways were underwater, and areas that are usually dry had become ponds. This is great news going into summer, though. We need all the rain we can get before the heat decides to remind us we’re living in Texas.

Monday was a fucking Monday.

Work was too slow for my liking. I really didn’t have much to do, which was surprising considering we had numerous building leaks from the rain. I expected to be running all over town, but that never happened. Instead, the morning just dragged on. The only thing it had going for it was the moderate temperatures. It wasn’t blistering hot yet like it was forecast to be later in the week.

Another week, another batch of summer camps. While nowhere near as invasive as band camp, cheer camp was underway. Young cheerleaders running all over campus are just part of life during these hotter months. I couldn’t tell you how many camps we host over the summer, but it feels like a lot.

That afternoon was another Staff Senate meeting—a so-called passing of the torch. It was the last meeting for some and the first for others, with a new group of officers taking over. Yvette is actually the secretary this go-round. I was surprised to hear about it at the meeting and a little offended that she hadn’t told me she was taking on that responsibility. I thought she had lost her damn mind adding that to everything else she already has going on. I hope she knows what she’s gotten herself into.

I was pooped by the time I got off work, and for some damn reason I had signed myself up to cook one of the most labor-intensive dinners imaginable—hibachi. I love it, but it doesn’t cook itself. Had I completely overestimated my ambition for a Monday night? Absolutely. Christ.

Tuesday picked up speed, thank the lords. As soon as I walked in the door, I had a steady stream of work that kept me occupied and made both the morning and afternoon fly by. It was a blur of activity—which, as strange as it sounds, was a welcome change from Monday trying to set the world record for longest workday ever.

Once again, I picked a dinner that was an utter pain in the ass—spinach manicotti. When I suggested it on Sunday, I remarked about how long it had been since I made it. Yvette thinks it was back when we were just dating. I fucking well know why it had been so long. Lord. The prep work alone takes nearly an hour—making the filling and stuffing each individual noodle. God, what was I thinking this week?

Hump day began with a morning meeting, all hands-on deck. It was a safety meeting first and foremost—ladder safety. That really doesn’t pertain to my group, but alas, we had to be there. Common sense should really deter someone from doing what our safety guy was telling us not to do, but I have seen with my own eyes over the years that common sense is seriously lacking. It was a rather short meeting, thank Cthulhu.

I clearly wasn’t thinking about my sanity when I planned the menu for the week. What seemed like a good idea on Sunday turned into a righteous mistake by Wednesday. Another messy, overly complicated meal that I probably don’t make very often for good reason—Salisbury steak.

It’s fantastic. Don’t get me wrong. But if it were the only labor-intensive meal I’d decided to make this week, it wouldn’t have been so bad. Instead, I somehow followed hibachi with spinach manicotti and then Salisbury steak. At this point, I should probably be questioning my sanity.

Well, summer really showed itself on Thursday, just in time for the solstice next week. Yikes. It was a real fucking drag, and everyone I spoke with seemed pretty bummed about the prospect of contending with some 100+ degree days. It reached 108 degrees, and it felt every bit of it. My will to live was suddenly zapped right out of me. I wanted to find a cool place to hide, but that was damn near impossible with work. I did my best to make sure everything that needed to be done was knocked out in the morning before the heat consumed us all.

Have I mentioned that I hate summer?

That evening, I cooked a slightly less complicated meal: stir-fry. Just throw everything into a wok and let it cook. It was too hot to stand in front of the grill or turn the oven on. Maybe I wasn’t losing my fucking mind after all. Maybe stir-fry was the first sensible decision I’d made all week.

Friday was our sweet little girl Alaya’s birthday. She was somehow already two years old. Her mom got her some balloons and surprised the little girl. I just can’t get over how quickly she is growing up. She isn’t a baby anymore; she’s a toddler now. My sweet girl.

At work, I hit the ground running. Thank God the weather was nice—gloomy skies, cooler temperatures, and even a little rain. A true blessing. The movers were off so I covered two of their obligations plus I had my job and my coworker’s job to take care of.. Needless to say, I was able to stay busy. I even had my performance review. Aced.

I just wanted to finish up my work so I would be able to watch the USA-Australia World Cup game. The USA team is on a winning streak! Yay, Merica!!

That evening some of us went out to Texas Roadhouse for Alaya’s birthday dinner.. Have I mentioned just how much that restaurant irks me? It always seems that they never have their shit together and I feel like the food isn’t great for the price.. Oh well, at least it was one meal this week that I didn’t have to cook.. After my week of time-consuming, complicated, messy meals, I was finally free to just sit on my ass and be served. That part, I must say, was nice.

After dinner, I went out to my mother’s place to see my brothers. All three of them! My brother from another mother was there as well, and he treated us to a small listening party featuring music from my late little brother, Alex Edwards. He had been working on finishing some of the songs he and Alex were collaborating on before Alex passed away.

What a truly special way to end the week. Drinking and telling stories of our past. Hearing those songs felt like a gift. For a little while, it felt like Alex was right there in the room with us.

I really watched a lot of World Cup this week. Twelve matches, four of them while sitting at my desk. Man, it’s been a long four years between tournaments. I don’t know how I live without it for so long. And each time it concludes, I go through soccer withdrawals.

All that soccer this week had me reflecting on my job..

Sometimes at work I really wonder why I am still doing what I do. I mean, I like it, but I feel like it doesn’t really live up to my potential. There are days when I question whether I can even call it a real job. There are lengthy stretches where I’m literally not doing a damn thing.

For example, take Wednesday at noon. While most of campus was off to lunch, I was holding down the fort. I watched both the Portugal-Congo and England-Croatia World Cup matches. Think about that for a second—I was paid to watch a soccer game for an hour. Would I be given that luxury at another job? I doubt it. I was actually able to watch three more games off and on at work that week.

Don’t get me wrong, some days I truly am working my ass off. I have been swamped and have had trouble getting my head above water. But damn if sometimes we have a heavy dose of downtime where I have to literally look for something to do. Wednesday I had the soccer games, so rather than work on my expenses like I could have, I decided to just watch some soccer and put that off until a later date. It wasn’t pressing; it would have just been a monotonous thing to do to pass the time.

I might be institutionalized by the work I’ve done on this campus. The flexibility. The freedom. I might as well quote one of my favorite movies, Ghostbusters, about working for a university:

Dr. Peter Venkman: “Personally, I like the university. They gave us money and facilities, we didn’t have to produce anything! You’ve never been out of college! You don’t know what it’s like out there! I’ve worked in the private sector. They expect results.”

Some days I hear that quote and laugh. Other days I wonder if Peter Venkman wasn’t making a pretty damn good point.