Last night, I sat in the back corner of the poker room next

YAEIK KLast night, I sat in the back corner of the poker room next to a 55-gallon cart full of bad cards. They were all bent and torn to ensure they wouldn't be used again. I felt much the same. Mrs. Otis was on the phone and sounded on the edge of breakdown. L'il Otis cried in the background and suddenly I was on the verge of tears myself.

After ten days at the WSOP, I hit the wall Dr. Pauly had been talking about. It was something I described on my other blog as Groundhog Day verisimiltude. sbobet The same games, the same people, the same cocktail waitressess, the same food, the same air, the same self-loathing. All of that combined with an overwhelming sense of guilt over leaving Mrs. Otis saddled with a month-long single motherhood finally got to me.

I realized at that moment that I wasn't taking very good care of myself. I had schooled others on the way to survive long Vegas runs, but I wasn't taking my own advice. I was sleeping and eating too little and working too much. My body clock was already off by twelve hours.

I decided that I was going to fix myself up, make sure I was tired in time for a reasonable bedtime tonight, and get a good night's rest. Get my mind right, so to speak.

Now, Chan and Laak are waiting in the wings while the most boring heads-up match ever plays out on the ESPN TV table.

And I'm wating next to the good Doctor. Mother fucker brings me screwdrivers at 4:30pm on a day that doesn't matter and he's drinking ginger ale tonight. What poor planning.

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