Silly Addictions Five

There's this really terrible new game that I have found myself pretty much addicted to for the last week. It's a teeny tiny little app for your "Smart Whatever" called 2048 and the goal is simple. It's a four by four grid and a #2 starts you off. You can swipe up down, left or right, and every time you swipe another #2 pops up in a random part of the grid. Everytime a number smashes into the same number, it doubles.

Swipe a 2 into a 2 and they become a 4. A 4 into a 4 and it makes an 8. Etcetera, etcetera.

The goal is to get as high a number as you can get before the board fills up with numbers that can no longer be smashed together. Top notch if you can rock a number all the way up to 2048. 

2 to 4 to 8 to 16 to 32 to 64 to 128 to 256 to 512 to 1024 to 2048. Etcetera, etcetera.

There are zero evolutionary explanations as to why this would be so fascinating, or become such a ridiculous time suck, but, you know, whatever.

It does get me thinking about odd addictions, those things you kind of just find yourself doing and know you could be doing something else, something at least a bit more productive, but you also find yourself kinda irritated when you're forced to stop.

And I have to skip drugs, cause, well, that's cheating, and if an intervention may be required then it's really not all that funny. Unless you're an intervention junky, which, must leave your entire family hurt and confused.

Here we are, five surprisingly pleasing addictions for moderately healthy, entrepreneurial Americans in their mid to late thirties:

Staring Off Into Space:
I don't know where I go, but feel free to leave me there.

Pulling Weeds in the Vegitable Garden:
Obviously, once you get passed the "chore" factor and the idea of bat poo under your finger nails, you find yourself just pleased as punch when you can get the whole weed root and all, kinda like pulling out that one ridiculous booger and somehow you hear better out of your left ear.

Getting Up and Seeing What's in the Fridge:
You're not really hungry, and it's gonna be a long time before you have to start dinner, but it does somehow make you feel better knowing what is hanging out behind that carton of orange juice and how long you have until the sour cream expires.

Checking the Time:
Now that I have a watch, I look at it at least three or four times every fifteen minutes, yet for some strange reason, whenever someone asks me what time it is, I pretty much have no idea.

Paying Some Sort of Audilble Tribute to the Song that is Stuck in my Head:
Right now I am tapping out the beat to William Tells Overature (Lone Rancher Theme Song) with my fingers on the hand rest of the rocking chair I'm sitting in in between sentences. I could be humming it, or mouthing beat box noises to it, but the one thing I'm not doing is wondering how it got there in the first place, cause, well, that would just be silly.

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