This afternoon I was playing with Frogmorton. He was on one side of the curtain, I was on the other, and I ran my fingers along the curtain for him to try to pounce at.
Well, I thought I was playing with him, but either this was annoying him or he plays to a different standard, but after a few ineffectual pounces he went in hot and clawed my fingertips, right through the drape. I retreated, swearing and bleeding copiously.
The day had started more calmly. Frogmorton had skulked back into our bedroom at about 7am from whatever hiding place he’d been in all night, woke me up and then let me fall asleep again until about 9.
Then I’d rushed out with La Serpiente to buy doughnuts and coffee, and then rushed back for a game of Blood Bowl that went horrendously bad (a 3-0 defeat, bop hoo) before going to my regular visit to the homeless encampment down south. I got to catch up with my parents while I was driving down, which was nice, and then handed out food and water, trying to justify my existence.
I got back, to find my wife down with indigestion and the kids going a bit loopy, so I took them out for pizza and to buy the cat more litter, played two games of Squig Bowl with the girls (La Serpiente broke down in tears the first time she rolled a 1), played with the cat, and then put the girls to bed while trying not to bleed on them, before trying to catch up with prep for the Chaos Cup. I have my team and my lucky dice packed, but not my underpants or anything important like that. Much to consider…