(no subject)
Dad had surgery four years ago on his back. After the surgery, I came down for long weekends because my class schedule allowed it. I helped keep the house clean, went grocery shopping, cooked things that Dad could easily warm up himself or someone could warm up for him, watched movies with him, tried to entertain him, and played tons of games with him. Card games, board games, children games. Hours and hours of games. Dad and I discovered that we both hate Trivial Pursuit, we loved Clue but it was too hard to play alone and there wasn’t always a third person here, he wouldn’t play Boggle with me or any other word games because he got tired of getting beaten.
Then we found Uno. Or, rather, I dragged the old Uno deck out of the closet. This was perfect - it was fairly mindless, but still something you could put some thought into. It was fun, you could play it successfully with two people. This began the endless Uno games. Game after game of Uno.
I lost. A lot. I lost almost all the time, actually. Why? Because my father played for blood - he would collect cards and hold them, stacking his hand for maximum damage to me. He’d nail me with skip cards and reverse cards and ‘draw 4’ wild cards. I’d end up with over a dozen cards in my hand, watching helplessly while Dad went out, cackling about it.
Then we found Uno. Or, rather, I dragged the old Uno deck out of the closet. This was perfect - it was fairly mindless, but still something you could put some thought into. It was fun, you could play it successfully with two people. This began the endless Uno games. Game after game of Uno.
I lost. A lot. I lost almost all the time, actually. Why? Because my father played for blood - he would collect cards and hold them, stacking his hand for maximum damage to me. He’d nail me with skip cards and reverse cards and ‘draw 4’ wild cards. I’d end up with over a dozen cards in my hand, watching helplessly while Dad went out, cackling about it.