|This is happening.|
"Busy," "High Energy," "Active," "Curious." These are all words that describe my 19-month-old son James. "Time-consuming," "Addictive," "Crack-laced," "Wasteful." These are words that describe Candy Crush. James + Candy Crush = Emergency.
|I give up.|
|This is called devotion.|
I'm lying. I didn't bake a cake and I have no intention of baking a Candy Crush cake or any cake for that matter. I did buy some chocolate chip cookie dough batter from Target yesterday, so that's something. Baby steps.
|Damn you flashing cursor. Damn you to Candy Crush hell.|
If only I could multi-task while writing. If that were the case, I'd have Interior Therapy with Jeff Lewis streaming in the background, my phone in one hand Candy Crushing away and the other hand typing the book of our lives. Perhaps then I could truly say that Candy Crush saved my life. I wonder if those words have ever been uttered. The creator. Only out of the creator who is laughing his way to the bank every time someone agrees to pay 99 cents to continue playing his crack-laced app.
But hey, at least I'm not desperate enough to spend any money on Candy Crush or change the time on my phone to get more lives.
I'm lying again. I might have invested a little over $10.00 so far to unlock additional levels. But it's only so I don't have to wait three days or bother Facebook friends. Is that so bad? Is it? IS IT?
And no, I haven't changed the time on my phone.