I must say, “The Beast” is a very generous guy. He’s the disease that keeps on giving.
He LIKES to share. He will give you anything he’s got…whether you like it or not.

Let me go back a bit and start my story the right way…a few weeks ago I had a great weekend. Went to practice for the “World Series of Poker.”  I want to play one of the events, and it is a three day event that I cashed at two years ago.  Going to try again. The field will start playing at 10 am on the first day and probably play until midnight. If I am lucky enough to still be in the tournament after the end of day one, I come back the next day and try to make it through that day for the final day. They are long days. Thanks to “The Beast” I don’t know if I can play two – twelve hours days in a row anymore, let alone three.

So my idea was to have a trial run. My husband and I decided to go to the casino, and get a hotel room. I would play poker and he would play golf. I could play twelve hours, stay over and then play again the next day.

Now I have said before somewhere in one of my blogs that poker is my “yoga.” Disclaimer: I am not advocating this for anyone, I am just giving you a peak into my world. I know it sounds weird…most people tell me they could never be relaxed while playing poker, especially the tournaments like I play in. But when I sit down at the poker table, it’s like I duct tape “The Beast” to a chair and stuff a sock in his mouth, and he has to leave me alone for awhile. Everything just goes away, and I can just concentrate on the game. Life is like it was before “The Beast” hitched a ride on my bandwagon. Oh…and believe me, “The Beast” gets pretty bent out of shape when I play. He rattles the chair and sometimes he even spits out the sock I planted in his mouth. He starts yelling rude things at me. Then my meds stop working, and that really pisses me off.

So I have to recenter myself, take some rescue meds and then find some really sweaty socks and maybe stuff two in his mouth this time. Ah the sound of silence.

I get back to my game. Unfortunately I got knocked out of the first tournament but entered another one that started at 10 pm and got fifth place. In order to do that I had to play till 3:00am in the morning. Afterwards I went up to our room to catch some Z’s, but I am so wired after playing that it takes me awhile to settle down and get to sleep. And to make matters worse, I had to wake up and be ready to play another practice tournament at noon. After all, this was the whole point – to test my endurance. But I wound up doing good. Better than I expected. So I have decided – I will play in the WSOP.

When we drive home I notice “The Beast” is very quiet. That is not like him. Usually, once I am done playing poker, it’s like the duct tape loses all its stickum and the socks just fall out of his mouth, and he is then free to wreak havoc, like he usually does.

But…it is all quiet on the western front. TOO quiet. Too damn quiet! “Olly Olly Oxen Free!”
Nothing. I am waiting for the shoe to drop. This is starting to get spooky!

When we arrive home, I am pretty tired, so I crawl into bed. I actually feel like I could fall asleep. A feeling, which as of late, is becoming just a memory. I drift off…

I awake to my husband shaking my shoulder. “Morgan, it’s ok. You’re dreaming. Wake up.”  I can barely breathe, heaving and whaling like a dying moose, tears streaming down my face. I am in full panic attack mode. BUT HEY, I WAS SLEEPING!

So that was what he was up to, that Rat Fink! This is my new gift from “The Beast” – if panic attacks weren’t already bad enough in themselves. He now gives me Panic attacks in my sleep! To be more precise, dreaming that I was having a panic attack, which brought on a real panic attack, but…I was still sleeping!  “The Beast” has now stepped up the bar and reached new heights of evil.

I guess this was his way of getting back at me for his two days with sweaty socks stuffed in his mouth. Maybe next time I’ll try quick drying cement.