With Laura set to move in at the end of the month, only one question remains: What to do with my bowling trophies? Of course, the answer would be easy if I were a wealthy athlete like Kobe Bryant or Peyton Manning, in which case, I’d simply dedicate a room in the mansion to them. Unfortunately, professional bowlers don’t make quite as much money, and non-professionals like myself, don’t make any. Perhaps if I weren’t in a one-bedroom there’d be some room for negotiation, but Laura’s made it clear she won’t live in “The Bowling Hall of Fame.”

She thinks I should put them in a box in the closet, but I know where that leads to. Yesterday, I had a ton of boxes in the closet and now they’re all out on the street. Even so, Laura doesn’t think there’s enough room for her stuff and based on the eight carloads she’s already brought over along with the estimate of what’s left, I’d have to agree with her. At this rate, my guess is I’ll be lucky to have a drawer in the dresser.

            Still, as I gaze upon the shelf in the living room, it kills me to think that fifteen years of sportsmanship and glory are only days away from being replaced by houseplants (according to Laura). Can a fern tell the story of the 2001 Applebee’s Assassins and their epic worst-to-first place finish? Will a Christmas cactus attest to my career high 207 that ironically (or was it destiny?), put us in the 2007 Tuesday night fall-league championship (the second-place trophy with the blue base)? And so what if I’ve never been on ESPN or bowled before a sold-out crowd. Are my accomplishments diminished in light of these facts?

            Laura seems to think so. I argued to the contrary, citing the merits of physical competition and the gladiatorial nature of the male psyche, but with the snap of her fingers, she rendered my discourse moot. It would be her or the trophies, and though procrastinating, I’m no fool. After all, what’s a bunch of cheap faux-marble mementos when a woman cares for you enough to want to live with you?

            Besides, she’ll never find them in the trunk of my car. There’s also a surprising upside to the situation: Laura’s agreed to give bowling a try, and next week, we’ll begin competing in the Friday night couple’s league. Who knows, maybe we’ll earn a trophy of our own. If not, I’m already a winner and the boys down at Patchogue Lanes are sure to know it the second they see the beauty I walk in with!