My hand hurts. A lot. The muscles that connect my fingers are dead, the tendons aren’t letting me grip anymore and holding anything with any mass is damn near impossible. Twitchy-twitchy, it goes.
Why doesn’t it work, you ask? What foul fate befell my hand? What savagery mutilated it so? I’ll tell you: bowling. Today, I went bowling for four and a half hours. Now, that might not seem like an excess to some people (Americans who are obsessed with the sport), but to someone who has played only once in the last year it’s a lot.
It was, however, a very good 8 games. I managed to win 3 of those even though the machine was randomly giving us all extra pins (that we never knocked down) and taking some away. The scores were consistently over 100 (which is alright for where I live – not many people bowl regularly), and the atmosphere was competitive enough (without getting remotely serious) to make it seem like a real victory when winning.
Despite the loss of my hand for the next few days, I think I might go bowling more often. It’s fun, and cheaper than I remembered. And there’s always those crazy ball-polishing machines to keep people entertained.