Imagine knowing you were heading to a party and your ex was going to be there—not an ex you have fond memories of, but the ex you just can’t stand. You work out, lose those last stubborn five pounds, choose the perfect outfit, and visualize sashaying into that room and watching your ex’s jaw drop with regret and shame.
That’s how I wanted Friday night against the Dallas Stars to go for the Predators.
Now imagine you get to the party and as you sashay across the room you hear murmurs and quiet giggles, and you suddenly realize you’re dragging sheets of crumpled toilet paper off your carefully chosen shoes, your zipper is halfway down, and you have spinach in your teeth.