Back on Jan. 10, we published an essay titled “Wordle captured me. Send help.” I wrote that plea six days into my relationship with Wordle.
The online word game had taken over my life, my conversations, my social media feeds. It had upended my morning routine, postponing my reading of online news (although not my first sip of coffee).
Ugh. Y’all did not send help.
Let me repeat: Y’ALL DID NOT SEND HELP.
Today marked my 82nd consecutive day playing Wordle. I’d “won” the previous 81 games, meaning I’d successfully guessed the day’s five-letter word in six tries or less.
Before today, Wordle boosted the ego. Guessing the word stretches the brain, but only a little. Success delivers a jolt of cheap good feeling.
Today’s word had a common letter string, like the “un” in bun, dun, fun, gun, nun, pun, run and sun but in five-letter words. I ran out of guesses – and felt … bad.
It’s your fault. If only you’d sent help.
But good news! Wordle refreshes at midnight. I start a new streak tomorrow.
Send help.
