It's no secret that I use golf as therapy. Even though I'm in therapy. But something interesting happened yesterday on the golf course....It was a beautiful day and three of us were playing hookey from work. Good friends, cold beer and sunshine. I'm not a good golfer to begin with, and I've always been OK with that. Yesterday, however, brought an entirely new meaning to playing BAD GOLF. After my third Mulligan on Hole 4, I dropped my head, took a breath and chucked my driver as far down the fairway as I could throw it. Then broke into tears.

I'm no weenie, but I guess it's just that time of year where life is "challenging" and trying to "teach me lessons" in patience. To be honest, I'm having none of it.

Moral of the story? Golf is NOT therapy. Paying someone $100 and hour to listen to your BS is therapy.

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