Dear Life,

It  will be a year, almost to the day the 2014-15 NHL season starts, since my job scenario changed and I have been increasingly overwhelmed at work.  We’re way past busy, and have visited manic on the way to meltdown.  Recently.  (See: this past Monday.)

It’s either carbs or crime.

I don’t remember where I found the time to watch hockey last season, let along blog about it, but that’s the clear reason why I bailed on the playoffs the minute my team was out.  Summer was no better: if it happened since May and didn’t involve an ice bucket, I probably missed it.

When someone comes into my office at lunch.

Well, that’s over.  I’m giving you two weeks to clean out your office.  Transfer your responsibilities elsewhere, Life, because on October 8, hockey is in charge.

Do the Scissor Leg.

Priorities will change.  I can’t just catch highlights or read the all-text, when-will-you-learn-we-need-photos NHL news posts.  It’s not enough to see Tumblr memes and injury selfies on Instagram.  One night off and I could be swept away by HTP (Hockey Twitter Panic) like Dorothy in a tornado.

Neville, you are no help!

Any day now, Crosby’s going to test his tiny pockets again.  Steven Stamkos will prove his unbrokeness by leaping a tall building in a single bound.  Who will document these things?  John Tavares doesn’t just wake up and forgo pleated khakis for nothing, you know.  If a healthy scratch wears a plaid in the press box and no one posts it, does it still make a sound?

We are weeks (at best, months) away from the season’s first misogynistic story suggesting 10 moronic questions girls can ask their would-be boyfriends while pretending to care about hockey.  Who will lambast these writers?  Or worse, who will let these girls go through with such an insulting and terrible plan?  Cosmopolitan will do a hatchet list of Hockey’s Hottest Players, compiled from Wikipedia searches and MySpace profile photos.  We cannot sit idly by while such offenses go unpunished.

Sometimes you have to.

There are Fridays to Foxy.  Mike Green could do something that calls for a Monday.  Jamie Benn and Tyler Seguin might dress as each other for Halloween.  James Neal could hold his shit together in Nashville.  Orange might be Michael Del Zotto’s color.  Jonathan Toews could be wearing those wakeboarding Spanx under any outfit at any time.  I could run into Matt Niskanenen at lunch!  The Puppy Bowl Oilers may even win a few games and WUYS must be ready.

Next stop: Verizon Center!

So, Life, the clock is ticking.  Two weeks from now, I am going back to hockey and fun and my friends.  And nachos.  You’re going to have to figure out how to work around us.

Love,
Pants

(Co-signed by my life coach.)