Why do I torture myself that way on the weekends?
I know weekends are supposed to be for rest & relaxation. I know that weekends are supposed to be the time to check out for a few days and take a mental vacation. I know that. I also know that those 48 (or whatever) hours are supposed to be sacred, and supposed to be used for brain dead activities.. I know that.
Then why, in between writing TV commentaries and editing video and playing soccer and getting ready for a big history show, have I been playing with this book the past few weekends?
Yes, that's what it looks like. It's a puzzle book. With puzzles in French. That's what any normal person would do to relax on the weekend, right?
Please say “right”.
I saw the book in one of those discount book catalogs from which Loraine and I have built the piles of books on our kitchen floor. I figured it would be fun, and it might help me keep my rusty French skills a little less rusty. The first few puzzles in it were, well, fun. They were easy, and I was actually impressed by the fact that I was able to finish them. But then I got to what the book describes as the “intermediate” section, and that's when the fun ended. I apparently ran into the limits of my French, and spent the next few hours alternating between thumbing through my massive French dictionary for a little help and uttering little yelps of pain that caused Loraine to look at me with that look I get when I'm doing something a normal person would perceive as stupid.
That's a good way to spend part of a weekend, right?
The thing is that despite the pain I actually did have a little fun torturing myself. Heck, I might even have learned a new French word or two. Whether or not that's what a sane person should (or would) do with a couple of their precious weekend hours is debatable; I just know that's how I spent a few of my precious weekend hours, for better or for worse.
And yes, I know I need help. What's your point?
8-)
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