Earlier this year, the boy bought these cards for me. He knows I play Solitaire — and why not remember fun times together while dealing.
I’m sort of preoccupied with the game. It’s easy, portable, and requires only me and a deck.
The only way I can justify the hours per week I spend sitting on the floor with these cards is to convince myself of its helpfulness. So I treat the game like a lesson. A metaphor, if you will.
First of all I don’t like to lose, so every time I do (which is often) is a reminder of my insignificance. I usually play a series; that requires patience. But most of all, putting of the urge to play instead of working is at least a low-key form of discipline.
Right?