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.
Looks they got harder as you went further down, as most of those on the bottom of the page are marked wrong. Sunday mornings are a good time for chess.