I have a confession to make. I ... am a Sudoku addict. I know. It's a shameful thing. But it's true. Even more shameful is the sorry level I'm at. Moderate. Not Wicked. Not Evil. Just Moderate.
My descent into the abyss began innocently enough. In fact, I'd sworn not to play the evil Suduko game, thinking it a waste of time (boy, was that ever the truth!). Its entry into my life, my thoughts, my dreams, came through someone I love and trust. My husband.
He came home from work one evening, having spent the day interviewing teaching candidates for his college, full of stories about this wonderful new game a prospective instructor taught them which would expand our minds, grow our powers of reasoning and logic, give us authority over other people and their evil mind tricks. Even stop alien attacks. He insisted we all learn to play and become geniuses.
Next thing I knew, I was sneaking the Sudoku puzzle book into the bathroom and sitting for what seemed hours. Taking it to bed and turning the light back on once I heard the steady, slow rhythmic breathing signaling Chris was asleep. Filling in the grid at the YMCA instead of working out. Finding excuses to sit for "just a minute" and pick up the book. Dreaming about the grid. Placing numbers in the squares while I'm talking or listening. If you scroll down the page you'll see a puzzle waiting to hook you too. It's bad, folks.
They say that admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery. Well, I hope that's true. Because if I reach evil genius status we're all in trouble. And while you're here, why don't you try a game yourself?
Until I write again ...