Last night Cheryl and I played cards (I know .. we're treading on dangerous ground .. what's next .. alcohol or even worse .. dancing??) with some old friends (old .. like we've known them for a long time .. however, they are also .. old).
The game was Phase Ten or as I prefer to call it .. the "mark of satan" and I suppose you have already surmised .. I didn't win.
Lucky at cards, unlucky at love .. my foot.
"Lady Luck" was nowhere to be found (at least as far as I was concerned) last night.
Oh, I started out doing quite well. I was winning, actually. However, that's how I get sucked (a word that describes my overall performance) in to "the dark side" every time. Everything seems to be going in my favor, then someone (usually the newest player who doesn't know a thing about the rules or game strategy) pulls the rug out from under me .. wraps me up in that rug .. and then beats the fire out of the rug (and me) with a long-handled broom (so to speak).
I hate playing games.
Perhaps "hate" is too strong ... no .. I hate it. I really, really hate it.
I've never enjoyed participating in anything that uses cards, boards, fake money, or small "playing pieces" in the form of dogs, thimbles, irons or shoes. That's just the way I roll (which reminds me .. I don't care for dice, either).
However, I do love my wife (the winner of 'game night' last evening, btw .. no, I'm not bitter .. much) and my friends .. who love playing cards.
So .. pass me a Coke and some pretzels.
Got any eights?
".. and the people sat down to eat and to drink, and rose up to play." - Exodus 32:6b
1 comment:
Stephen's not really fond of playing games, either, but I love them.
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