Inspirations from cheese in a can. joey, kelly and danny.

I think I twittered a while back about this situation I have. In a word, the situation is Wurdle. Wurdle is best described as Boggle for the IPhone. Or, in my case, the ITouch. Those of you who are super tech-savvy are saying to yourselves right now: “It is NOT an ITouch. It is an IPod Touch.” And you’re right…..a little uptight perhaps, but you’re right. However, because my husband said the same thing to me in a rather condescending manner, for me, it is and always shall be the ITouch. Really though, I usually just call it Wurdle, because that is the only purpose for which I am interested in this device.

Oddly, I never much got into the whole Boggle thing. You know, it’s that game where there are dice with letters on them, and you shake them up. Then you write down all the words you can think of built from adjacent letters. I know it is possible to achieve great heights in the sport of Boggle, a la Peggy Hill, but I dunno, I just never got into it. As soon as Joey found this application, though, he knew that I would love it. And I do. Very much. I find it so relaxing to play. It represents three-minute increments of immersion in something other than my immediate surroundings, which usually prominently feature a carpet of toys, dirty laundry, and needful creatures. Sometimes I can put together amazing words, like “frenetic” and “quietude”, and sometimes I can make a hundred tiny words. Often I do neither, but I can fail miserably ten times before I get mad enough to quit. Because I just know that next time, it’s going to be an exquisite board of perfectly arranged, immaculately useful letters.

Yeah, see what I mean? I have a little situation. Here’s the good news and the bad news: Wurdle is only available when Joey is here AND not using it himself AND feeling generous with his precious. So really, it’s a self-limiting addiction. The object of my addiction makes its home in someone else’s pants. I can’t partake without someone else knowing, and I can’t indulge when I’m alone. In fact, I have to ask permission, really. It goes like this: “Can I play Wurdle?” Or, if it’s really bad, just a very serious look and “WURDLE.” Rarely am I denied. Because sharing does not come naturally for Joey (it’s something he must actively work on), more than once he has said: “I’m going to buy you your own IPod Touch so you’ll leave mine alone.” I flatly reject this offer because A) I’m a cheap bastard, B) we can’t afford for us BOTH to be addicted to electronics and C) I maybe couldn’t control myself. And there would be Danny and his little (probably female) brother, hungry and wrestling in a pile of their own products as their mother frantically tries to concoct a nine-letter word. (Oh, “frantically” would be an awesome word.)