As one does of an evening I pulled the green travelscrabble set out of the felty green bag I had flung it into - and insisted on a game. Hours upon hours later I had not only lost (by 2 darned points) but I had pulled quite a lot of my hair out. I am very serious about the game. I like to win. If there is any indication that I am not going to win then my life becomes unbearable until the darn thing is over with. I really should have put something on my head. A turban-like towel. Or a hat. Or something. But one never does think in advance that one is going to succumb, does one? One does not. So - having slept and woken without the least possibility remaining of having a Good Hair Day, I am piqued. That is all. I am piqued and it I continue to write about the darn thing I will become yet more piqued. So it is better for me to eat home-made doughnuts and think, instead, about my figure. Yes, I will be neurotic about my figure today, and not about my hair. The moral of the story is clear: go to bed at a reasonable hour and do not become terribly attached to the idea of ALWAYS winning board games.
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