Worst Sunday ever.

I've been a bit busy at work lately, what with all the staring off into space and Internet games I play (not to mention the naps in the break room, or reading magazines, or pondering life), that lately, when I come home, I have zero energy to do anything.

Except play Nintendo. Super Mario Brothers. Lame? Yes. But nothing in the world* can make me feel so in control, or take my mind off work for so long. When I'm jumping on duck/turtle things and trying to rescue the princess (which I've never done), I can't be disturbed. It's intense.

And so all day long, instead of wishing I were home sleeping, or watching TV, I wish I were playing Nintendo. What a sad, pathetic little life I have. But it's fun; it's 2-D, and its songs -- cowabunga. All I need is a side ponytail or a banana hairclip and I'd be rockin' it early '90s style. Maybe that's why I like it. It reminds me of a time when I didn't have to think about work by getting my mind off work and "stuff."

Yeah, maybe.

Or maybe it's because I want to conquer the stupid game.

I was close. Once. 1992. I found one of the warp levels. My brother and I took turns being Mario, because we'd killed Luigi off in Level 2 (that dang water world). We were on Level 9. Big stuff. But there was this ginormous hole to jump over. And we just. Couldn't. Do it. We cried. We jumped around, looking for hidden blocks. We tried to go down tubes. We tried running really fast and pushing A and B at the same time, steering with the controller, as if that would help.

But nothing we did helped. We had about 10 lives, and when we got down to five, we started to really sweat. I mean, we're talking the old system; no Internet to look at cheat sheets, no "save" option. Nothing. We were doomed. So we did what any nine and seven year old would do. We got angry. I'm not talking German kid angry, but it was pretty close. And you know what happened next?

"You called a friend to help?" No.

"You figured it out? Teamwork, blah blah." No.

MOM TURNED IT OFF. Gone. That whole Sunday, just gone. Clouds came and ... uh, clouded up the previously sunny sky. My brother and I just stared at the black screen. Gone. Just gone. If we hadn't moved since, my brother and I might still be staring at that TV screen.

So it's not just me trying to beat the game. It's me, trying to get that terrible memory out of my mind. Shudder. I've forgiven her. But I just. Want to. Know. How. It. Ends. So I can stop typing in staccato.

(*That may not be true.)