Exercised into the ground

Late Friday I was finally able to catch up on charge batches that needed scanning (at the expense of payment batches—my other scanning responsibility). This comes just in time—a new error-checking policy that requires that I keep charge batches up-to-date is to begin on Monday.

Friday evening was filled with an epic Soul Calibur II battle between Nate, Brian, and myself. Brian’s and my one hope—that Nate’s unfamiliarity with the GameCube controller would slow him down (he’s used to the PS2 version of the game)—was dashed in short order. Nate’s Nightmare is to be feared.

Today I played disc golf with Brian in the afternoon, and gave a pretty poor performance. I had tired out my arm from watering plants (!) in the morning, and so had less power than I normally do (and I don’t start out with much arm power, let me tell you)… and it showed. Ah well. We got caught behind these four guys who were carrying mysterious paper bags that they periodically sipped from. We were also ahead of a few other groups, and so experienced hurry-up-and-wait disc golf—where you sit around until you can finally play a hole, and then jog through the hole so that the next group can play it. Select parts of the course featured large numbers of flying insects, which were less than pleasant to play through; one extremely errant throw landed me near a pool of stagnant water featuring a discarded bleach bottle. That scene warmed my heart.

Renee called in the evening, and so I wound up going out to play an hour and a half of tennis. We play a modified game, which has three major differences from actual tennis:

1) No need to serve

2) No need to hit the ball before the second bounce

3) No need to keep score. The only points that matter are “losing points,” and you only earn one of those by knocking the ball over the fence that encloses the court.

Adam was the first to earn a point, and Renee was happy to make fun of him for it. Renee was the second to fall, and Adam enjoyed making fun of her in turn.

At the end of the evening, I was the only one who wasn’t losing. On the last round of the evening (Renee later admitted she was about to call it quits), I managed to somehow catch the ball with the side of my racquet—and knocked it over the fence.

I was so close to winning!

Between hurry-up-and-wait disc golf, and modified tennis, I’m more beat than a wayward child. I can already tell that I’m going to be pretty darn stiff tomorrow.


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