For the first time in about ten years, I went to Bingo.
I feel deeply regretful that I let this hobby slip to the wayside in my life, because really, there are few things which compare to the thrill of watching sweet little old ladies swear like sailors at the end of a three day furlough when someone else calls "Bingo!".
You know that someone is getting rolled in the parking lot after winning the blackout prize on game one hundred thirty-seven. You will know the victim by the blue hair and scent of Geritol. That is also how you will know the perpetrator(s).
When did bingo start taking so damn long, anyway? The last time I played it, I thought, "Well, that was about as much Bingo as I can take for a while."
Now, some ten years later, I have had enough Bingo for even longer than that.
However, I won a five dollar gift certificate, so I will go back. Probably next week. Maybe someone will swallow their tongue this time.
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This is all the stuff I was doing when you asked me what I was doing and I said "Nothing."
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