I woke up at 7:30 this morning and couldn’t get back to sleep, because there’s no justice in this world. I felt sorry for myself for a while, then dragged myself from my bed and went out to get coffee. The house was a mess because I was up late last night gluing together Blood Bowl players, so I felt guilty every time I went in the living room. Or the dining room. Or our bedroom. Or the kitchen.
I had a game of Blood Bowl to play in the online tournament I’m in (playing lots of people in Australia) so after I’d had my coffee I rushed back for the match. It was a dreadful match – my players were smashed to pieces from the very first turn and the rest of the game was a grinding, depressing experience. Blood Bowl is a hard and masochistic game at the best of time, dice rolls often betraying you at the best of times, but this was a particularly bad one. So after eating a sandwich, I went out in the afternoon to clear my head.
I met up with a couple of friends and told them my woes (starting from last week’s crash, going through various family members’ illnesses, and capping it off with almost falling down an escalator on Wednesday and they seemed to think I was quite down. It’s hard to keep chirpy at times like these.
So I had some food, and that cheered me up, and then we went out for a walk and my right knee almost gave way, which didn’t make me very happy at all, and so after a stop at Mellower for cake, we took a taxi over to Dhoby Ghaut where I bought a can of spray paint for my Blood Bowl figures, and tried on some shirts at Marks & Spencer, and tried to put away the general gloom that comes from being without my family. Then I went home and played another game of Blood Bowl, which I really shouldn’t have, because I played even worse than the first time, hopelessly outclassed by my opponent, and wondering why I was trying this at all.
In between whiles, I spoke to my family on the phone. I suppose I should have done this more and spent less time mucking about with Blood Bowl. Another valuable learning.
So I stopped myself, had some more cereal, sprayed all my Blood Bowl figures with the paint, which was at least something tangible I’d achieved, and while the heady stench of acrylic wafted strongly in the air,I played one more match, which I would have won if not for a stupid mistake on my part that I could clearly identify, and I actually managed to swing a draw. So that made me feel a little better.
And so, to bed.