The morning after

The aches, pains, and wounds of yesterday are beginning to set in now that I have fully dethawed. There's still no hot water, which made this morning's shower an adrenaline-charged occasion. Weng was all ready to start the day with a cold shower, but he chickened out, so he's still stinky. (He played a total of 16 minutes of basketball before they were unceremoniously dumped out of the competition, therefore he's hurting a lot less physically, but still nursing a slightly injured pride.)

Gwen's Ben and Weng have long since stopped associating netball with 'girly game', as have the other five guys we played against in a friendly yesterday:

"I prefer basketball to netball because at least there they're openly hostile. In netball, they're so smelly (i.e. underhanded)..." - Ben

I tell you, they wouldn't survive two minutes on court. There was so much elbowing, toe stepping, backing up, scratching, and diving that it's almost embarrassing to be associated with the sport. But then again, you get whatever you can get, even if it means joining in the melee.

Probably going to spend today reliving those sublime plays and goals, and proudly whining about my bruises.