Dear me. Found this thing from about 1995, which looks to be part of a chess test I gave myself JUST BECAUSE I WANTED TO. Then I scored myself, reviewed my mistakes, and trusted that I was a better chess player as a result of the exercise.
Yep, that’s a pretty good example of what I used to do with my Sunday afternoons in 1995. Took lots of pent up analytical energy and channeled it into the beauty of chess. Startling, and maybe a little socially pathetic, but part of my story nonetheless. Who knows? Maybe chess saved me from a lifetime of standing on a street corner cursing at traffic.
Sure, go ahead and laugh. But hey, you’d have OCD too if you were compulsively obsessive about everything.