Growing up, my mother would exasperate my soul as she played solitaire.
“No, that won’t work,” she would declare before I even had a good chance to look over all the possibilities.
I mean, was she a card shark? Did she have a psychic ability to know which cards were going to come up – and in which order?
Often, I would leave the scene muttering, “Why not at least TRY!”
Now that I am in my senior years, I find myself playing solitaire quite often.
More often than I would like.
Better than a move, most nights.
So, I try really hard to play with the same mindset my mother had. Predict. Learn. Repeat.
As Kenny Rodgers sings, “Know when to fold ’em!”
Still. I think my mother has some secrets.
You know, this computer version keeps track of all the games I play (until I reset the statistics), and I can very seldom get passed 33 1/3%. Most often, I consider myself lucky if I get three finished games in a row.
That is most frustrating when I get a particularly great hand that just flows along until all cards are moved on top of the aces, and then the next game doesn’t get off the first rank.