A Cooked Goose

The grass in the rough on a golf course is usually long.  The ball may be buried in the lush vegetation . . it may only be partially visible.  That would make the next shot difficult, maybe impossible, and I would have to be lucky to not add a stroke to my already bloated score.  So, what should I do?  What would I do to counsel myself?

Well, the answer is simple.  I would say that you shouldn’t have gotten yourself into that position, grasshopper, but now that you have, your goose is cooked.  Of course, it means that you should have been more careful the last time out. 

I have been reflecting on this during the past two weeks because of Fiona’s passing.  There is absolutely nothing I can do to fix it except be frustrated and maudlin; or, I could try and learn from it and move on.  Move on . . egad, I don’t want to    ☹.  I want to be sad and moan and flop around on the ground . . .

There is nothing to do for it. . I should have been more careful, more appreciative, more supportive when I had the opportunity, before now. 

Grasshopper shouldn’t have gotten himself in this position. . . but now that he has, and his goose is cooked, he has to make sure that this shot, this current shot, is a good shot . . . so, he doesn’t end up in the rough again.