Driving home from the match is a pleasure these days. As a natural miserable git, spending two hours surrounded by the NYS suicide squad makes me feel life's not too bad afterall.
Getting home I just need to decide whether to open one of the 13 identical Kempo threads or skip through the new IBS thread debating the morality of mousetraps in a Christian society.
Win, lose or draw won't make my bedtime cuppa taste any different.