I didn’t play golf Saturday. I can’t really say why. I just didn’t feel like it. I did have a lot of other things to do. I needed to clean up the yard and get rid of a lot of dead vegetation which succumbed to the snow on Christmas. And there were weeds to pull. And all the bank accounts needed an audit in preparation for doing my taxes. And my truck needed some work.
But all that was really of no importance in comparison to a round of golf. After all, they could all be done afterwards. I just didn’t feel like playing.
That’s never been an issue before. I enjoy playing regardless of weather, and the fact that temperatures were low wasn’t what stopped me. I just didn’t feel like playing.
I’ve been off my game recently. I’m not scoring as well as I’ve grown accustomed to. I’m not hitting the ball cleanly, and putts always seem to drift right. But I don’t get mad at myself for all that. I simply remind myself that I am out playing because I enjoy the game. But on Saturday, I just didn’t feel like playing.
I did all those tasks at home. And yesterday I went out and played. For most of the round, I enjoyed myself. I birdied the first hole, but didn’t play well the rest of the round. A few pars, a few bogeys, and a few “other numbers.” But I didn’t have the enthusiasm nor focus to play well. I just didn’t really feel like playing.
I think it must be some kind of mental illness that afflicts me.