The Summer Drought

No guilt this time.

The table has been empty for about two weeks. I noticed it maybe three days in, shrugged, and picked up my guitar.

That’s basically the whole story, but let me give you the context anyway.

***

It’s summer in Sicily. From where I live, the beach is thirty minutes away, downhill, toward the coast. The sea is right there if you want it. If you’ve never spent a summer in a small town in southern Sicily, the closest thing I can offer is: imagine a place where the air itself doesn’t want you to do anything. The heat isn’t uncomfortable in a dramatic way. In Sicilian dialect, there’s a word for this: cagnòla. I’m not sure of the etymology, but the word always makes me picture stray dogs stretched out in the shade, sleeping so deeply they almost look dead. That’s the kind of heat that persuades you to sit down and not start a campaign right now.

So I haven’t. The last couple of weeks have been a mix of no time, no energy, and, frankly, no particular pull toward the games. I’ve been playing guitar instead, rewatching old Tarantino films I hadn’t seen in twenty years, Pulp Fiction last week, and I’d forgotten how much it holds up, listening to Pearl Jam records without stopping to analyze the guitar parts. Good things. Just not board games.

The table has been empty. That’s fine.

I saw a thread on Reddit recently where someone asked about board game droughts and whether other people went through them. I commented as SicilianMeeple: “I am in the middle of one right now. It’s ok, the best thing you can do is not pushing yourself too hard. And I used to push myself a lot. Just enjoy what you want to do right now.”

I wrote that without thinking too hard about it. And then I realized it was true in a different way than it used to be.

“Used to push myself a lot” is doing some work in that sentence.

This is the only board I am currently obsessed with…

Scythe is sitting on the shelf right now. I can see it from where I’m writing this. I’ve been planning a proper campaign with it for a while, and I’ve already decided: September. Not because I’m forcing myself to wait, but because September actually makes sense, my daughter will be back in school, evenings will cool down, I’ll have the table to myself. I look at the box and I already know when we’re going to sit down together. There’s no drama in that.

Dune Imperium is there too. I see it. I don’t pick it up. No explanation needed, not even to myself.

***

There was a period, not that long ago to be fair, where I would have felt bad about this. Where I would have opened BGStats to check if the play count was trending down, or started a quick game just to feel like I was keeping up. With what, exactly, I’m not sure. The hobby in general. Some imaginary version of myself that plays more consistently than I actually do.

I don’t do that anymore. I think my previous post about the slump was about learning that lesson the hard way. This one is about noticing that I don’t need to learn it anymore.

It’s just a summer drought. The guitar sounds good. September is close enough.

***

Most board gamers who slow down in summer have a September. Something already waiting on the shelf, not out of guilt, but because the timing will be right. Do you have one? What is it?

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Marco Doria writes The Gentle Meeple. He works as an editorial manager and consults on content operations at marcodoria.consulting