When I first discovered spider solitaire I played it for three straight hours. I noticed a crease in my arm where you could hide a quarter.
I thought: Oh, good, I’m going to lose weight now because who wants to eat when they can play spider solitaire? I will probably never get up again.
One Sunday, one of my children came over.
Do you know this game? I said.
Look, this is how you play it. For once I was the advance team.
His last words: Oh, I see. You play like this.
Evening was approaching and I went to turn on a light and noticed his convertible being pelted with rain.
The top is down, I said.
This would upset normal people and galvanize them into action.
Pretend spider solitaire is Johnny Depp/Mila Kunis and three inches of water resting on Italian leather is a gnat.
We rolled up the top and went back to Johnny/Mila.
That was many game moons ago before Angry Birds and Candy Crush Saga
If I took all of my solitaire time and added it up.
No no, let’s not go there.
Just a rough estimate.
What? Too much?
Just shut up, okay.
Before the internet, I used to play solitaire with a deck of cards. I applied magical powers to losing and winning. (Yes, I was already an adult.) It was my dirty little secret but I knew that I was not alone. J. P. Morgan was a solitaire addict and played non-stop for thirty-six hours during the Banking Crisis of 1907.
My daughter in law aka the Pope of all digital media told me on Sunday that three quarters of casual games are bought by women. Men vs women who play games are roughly equal until age 35+ after which women take the lead. Duh. Guess whose life gets more interesting after 35+ and whose life has to cope with baby weight and baby bladder?