I love words. And wordplay. And there are endless possibilities for wordplay in this post.
So pretend I wrote something wordplay-ish and witty. But I’m not going to play that game. I’m going to skip all that and cut to the chase.
I need help.
Not help playing the game.
I need help NOT playing the game.
With no other known addictions, I never thought I had an addictive personality. (Chocolate is NOT an addiction; it’s a lifestyle.)
But I’m hooked. It
is all my son’s fault started as a game that turned into a habit that is verging on obsession. Even typing these words I’m thinking, how many points for “verging” played on a triple word space.
My closest friends
have better things do with their time don’t even know about my little secret; I haven’t publicly looked for opponents on Facebook or Twitter. Mostly I play with my son and HIS friends…who have a built-in advantage at the rate I’m losing brain cells.
So what’s the problem with a friendly game among friends?
It seemed harmless. Even better than harmless. I figured it was my best defense against getting Alzheimer’s.
The problem is that it’s available anytime, anywhere.
I do it first thing in the morning; and last thing at night. I do it on the toilet and on the sly in restaurants when my husband is reading the menu.
The other day I was in a store, playing a word while waiting for my sale to be rung up. Hearing the telltale ping, the salesgirl gives me a pointed
pitying look: “Words with friends?”
And she didn’t even offer to play.
But it got worse. When my partners didn’t give me enough action, I stooped lower.
I started asking to be matched up with Random Opponents.
Random people, people.
You’d be surprised to know how many of us are out there cruising in the middle of the night.
It’s called Words with Friends, so I figure I need to have a word with my friends, who are supposed to be there for me. All I’m asking is this:
get the app on your phone and play with me just one word among friends : intervention.