I wrote a dirge to a tiny, dead computer person today. Ten lines with ten syllables each carefully and lovingly constructed. This is the level of my addiction to Oregon Trail: American Settler.
To be fair, she was the first of my settlers to die. I am a fairly good mayor for this tiny town living in my phone which insists that I pick crops and make splints for the population all day. In the week since my sister got me hooked, I have built forts and silos, grown cotton, and cured cholera. I have, only once, stayed awake for an extra thirty minutes to save a villager from typhoid. Ok, twice.
I am not a gamer. My Wii connects my TV to Netflix for me, but I don’t own a single game. However, I spend a large portion of my time at work on conference calls and web meetings which allows me to plant potatoes between tasks. Or to play another word in Words With Friends (eleanorstrousers, if you want to play). And of course, to tweet, check Facebook, or text. If you see me, my face will be staring at that tiny screen.
In the interest of being a little more active in the real world, I’m setting aside two phone free hours for the evening. If someone dies of typhoid, though, I’ll have only myself to blame.