Every fourth Sunday (or every second #childfree Sunday, if you like) I leave the house to go and play Pathfinder with several of my dearest friends. As a rule, I leave the house with great reluctance: after all, leaving the house is usually caused by going to work, or otherwise going where other people are. Nuff said.
The game itself is a wilderness to me. My head can contain detailed references of CSS rules, grammatical no-nos, Doctor Who continuity, plot structures for my various short stories, and the general principles of staying alive. It can’t, however, cope with the rules of Pathfinder. I turn up, I roll my dice, and occasionally I’ll do something useful. But it’s ok: I’m surrounded by people who know what they’re doing. More importantly, I’m surrounded by people who I enjoy being surrounded by.
I like to think of it as a forced excused for socialising. Because sometimes you need an excuse, otherwise you might end up never leaving the house.