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Yes, that’s exactly what’s happening. Today, and for many days, in fact.
I have this little silly habit of getting hooked on puzzle games. It’s weird. And slightly pathetic. I’m not exactly sure why I’m choosing to share this personal tidbit, in fact, because I’m bound to have a formidable amount of shame about it later. Nonetheless, read on…
So, I found a new game involving shiny little candies. You swap them around and try to get them to line up in a certain way and, when they do, they explode and you get points. If you get them to line up in trickier ways, you get special candies. Then, if you line those special candies up together they just blow the crap out of all the candies with lightning bolts and all kinds of fanfare. It’s not the most original game of all time, but I like it. Probably because of the shiny candies.
It started out fun. A click here, a click there, kapow! Kablam! Fun, right? I mean, who doesn’t like exploding candy? And then I got a little better. And I figured out how to get a higher score. I got a star, even. TWO stars. This was getting good.
But then…disaster. My score started lowering. Hmm. That can’t be right. I was getting kinda awesome at this. But alas, my score was, indeed, going down. There was significantly less kapow. And barely any kablam. What the hell?
So, as any self-respecting adult would do, I doubled my efforts. I furrowed my brow and mustered all my concentration as I clicked the “Play Again” button. A few minutes later…dangit. “Play Again.” Dangit. “Play Again.” Son of a… seriously! The more I play, the lower my score. The lower my score, the more I want to play again to get a better score. So here I am, playing the candy game like a fiend, I tell you, and I don’t even have mad shiny candy game skills to show for my effort!
All the while I have other, awesome, creative things I could be doing with my time. They’re sitting in the corner of my mind all cold, skinny and gray from neglect. And the stress of that reality grates on my fragile psyche. I need a break. Some down time. I need to blow the crap outta some candies.
If Benjamin Franklin were alive, and in my apartment, he would straight up murder me.