I’m so glad I gave myself that gift of time. Seriously.
I spent almost an entire weekend playing video games and remembering how to play some of my favorites, and very little of it sleeping… much to Husband’s distress.
ME: Why is your son pressuring me to go to bed?
HIM: Well, it’s not quite midnight…
ME: Come get me when it’s bedtime.
ME: (hours later) Is it bedtime? Or hounds outside time?
HIM: Yes. To BOTH.
ME: I can’t let them out. Because of my honor.
(sound of exhausted husband tromping downstairs to collect wife and her faithful hounds)
Downside: it seems Husband believes Horizon Zero Dawn is bringing out my hoarder tendencies… which, if I’m honest, I do have.
You never know when you’ll need extra twigs!
ME: Ugh, I need more inventory space!
HIM: You’ve got… okay, you’re carrying way more flowers than I would.
ME: But you use them for stuff, right? (checks) Yeah, they’re used to make potions.
HIM: It’s your game.
ME: Well… how much would you—
HIM: I’d get rid of all but one stack.
ME: Because then I’ll run out!
HIM: (stares carefully ahead)
ME: I hate having to stop while I’m doing shit to pick fuckin’ flowers.
HIM: (calmly) Your collection of flowers suggests otherwise.
And then he complained, the other day, that we’re not spending enough time together and dragged me grocery shopping with him. Grocery shopping. Yeah, you know that’s a recipe for disaster because you’ve been paying attention! But will he sit and watch me play? Nooooo… neither of them will, actually. Not for very long, anyway.
ME: I’m about to go check out that area—wanna watch?
OFFSPRING: No. Because there’s going to be a… nevermind.
ME: I’ve already guessed there’s going to be at least one major fight there.
OFFSPRING: Yeah, and you’re going to try to stealth and snipe and not touch the ground, and—
ME: Beats the alternative.
OFFSPRING: Only because you’re such a spaz!*
ME: (to Husband) Your son can’t handle watching me try to melee.
OFFSPRING: That’s because your version of melee is to mash the heavy attack button while dodge-rolling in random directions!
HIM: I know.
OFFSPRING: SHE WON’T EVER STAND UP!
HIM: I know.
OFFSPRING: Seriously, she crouches the whole time and just dodge-rolls over and over instead of sprinting or sliding!
HIM: Oh, I know
ME: (shrugs) I’m hoping I can hide again! Plus, when they hit me I panic.
* In fairness, this “spaz” accusation came up again, in another fight—one with Husband watching—where there was no cover and I was expected to just sprint around. Only I’m bad at sprinting. He couldn’t figure out how that’s possible, but you see it, right?
I’m a natural-born sniper. I only run when I’m out of ammo.