Time Suck

Right now, in this moment, I need to read a 138 page annual report on a local company for my research methods class. I also need to crunch a lot of data about standardized test scores and teacher attrition in Excel, or-- should I feel really brave-- Access. There's a sweater I finished that needs to be blocked before I try to assemble and wear it. I should get out the vacuum-- the Dyson DC15 ANIMAL!-- and wage war against the IsCat hair. Take out the trash. Swiffer the kitchen because the refrigerator is leaking Mystery Goo again.

But right now, in this moment, I believe it is more important to beat the Suz's high score in Zuma. I downloaded this game from PopCap last summer, and I'm not including the URL here for the same reason I won't drive people to Chinatown at 1 in the morning. I can't be held responsible for starting or feeding someone's addiction. I have my own problems.

So it's this game, see? All these multi-colored balls roll into a spiraling track on the screen and you have this frog, see? And you shoot colored balls out of the frog's mouth and try to get them into line next to other balls that are the same color, see? And when you get three or more balls together in a row, they disappear, see? And you have to get rid of all the balls before the train rolls into the skull's mouth, see?

And that's basically it. There are levels upon levels of this thing (and I've played them all-- once without "dying" at all) and there are bonus balls and different combinations to get more points.

I am a grown woman, and I am ashamed to say how many hours-- nay, weeks-- of my life I have wasted playing this game. And now I may say to myself, my God, what have I done?

And it's spread. The Suz plays it, even when she doesn't want to. Her New and Improved IsBoyfriend has a serious Zuma problem. His roommate.

It's so innocent. "I'll play one board while dinner heats up." Three hours later your contacts are welded to your corneas because you're not blinking as often as you should. Smoke is pouring out of the oven and the alarms are going off. Firemen are crashing through the door behind you and you're yelling, "But I'm just about to win level 13, 'Space'" as they drag you away from the monitor.

This is no way to go through life.