… if by “morning” you mean “sometime after midnight.” Yes, more disturbing than my inability to fall asleep before 3 a.m. (thank you, night shift) is my ability (“willingness” is probably a better term, on second thought) to plow through a series of New York Times puzzles without stopping before going to bed. (It’s not like there’s anything on TV.)
The full extent of my crossword addiction was documented a little too well in an unfortunate opinion piece best forgotten (though after re-reading it just now, I think I overestimated the horror). It appears that my doomsday-esque prediction that crosswords were about to be eaten alive by sudoku (which most spell-checking devices — still — don’t recognize, incidentally) turned out to be wrong. In fact, it’s practically worked out in my favour now that the crossword puzzles in newspapers strewn about in subway cars are still untouched by the time I get to them. (The same can rarely be said for the sudokus, most of which are at least half-finished before being abandoned.)
There was no real point to this post, other than to distract me from crosswords and our old friend rampant speculation.
scrambled eggs and grilled cheese 