Tried to enter the postal match today, second attempt. Today and yesterday, yesterday being the first (really?), yeilded a much more depressing story. I awoke and thought "do I even want to get up? Nobody hassling me, I'm comfy, just me and my thoughts... But I didn't have enough blankets and got cold. I look out the window, three inches of snow, damn. Maybe I can shoot out of the shed. With an hour, I set out. Retrieving the (now) rusty(er) frames from the back of my snow filled truck, I posted two targets: one to check zero, and the comp target. However, electrical tape won't adhere to rusty angle iron well. Running
out to set them up, I thought "yeah, that's 100" and ran back. I decided when I got back to the shed they were not as far as I thought. "Ok," I said, "I'll check when I'm set up". More time is used. As is turns out, the dirt pile backstop wasn't a straight shot fom the open space I planned to use, so I set up underneath
the service truck. "This'll be fun. I'll just pretend I'm a SWAT sniper taking out rhinos escaped from the zoo. And I have amazing ammo to kill a rhino with a .308". "Okay, that measures... 8 inches tall? Mildot Master says... 80, hmm, I should move it." I ran back out and moved them in front of the junk pile. I set up again, "Okay, now it's... 112, damn. I think I'll see them from over there now." I take the first shot, thinking the corner of the target coming loose was no biggie, it falls back for a lull in the wind right? BANG! "Where's the hole? I can't see it." I run back out and verify that the bullet missed the paper completely. I get the tape to stick back down and run back. Resuming firing, I see that it's hitting about 3/4 in. to the right. This scope readjusts in 1/8 MOA, so lets do 8 and see where we are. BANG! "That's odd, not even a quarter inch of movement. BANG! My frustration begins to mount as I see I hit the exact same distance away from the dot, on the other side. I become aware that because of my low level of fitness, my heart beat and breathing are heavier and making it more difficult to be steady. I rest a minute, but now have less than a half hour to go. I resume firing and quickly become aware that I am not a good shot. Voices in my head begin as I give one last try: low and directly under the dot. With only 10 minutes to get ready, I close the shed and go. End results summary: The target survived, the shooter is discouraged, and the rifle was put away without being cleaned and is probably rusting from snow and condensation in my safe as we speak. More as my attempts become even more hurried and futile.