Do you wake up with Wordle?
We start our day to the slow trickle of everyone’s Wordle scores, complete with a few gripes or crying blood emoji. We commiserate over words like “caulk” or “shake,” which was a surprising landmine.
We philosophize over what makes one “good” at Wordle—is it a skill, or is it a game of luck?
Is the Internet creating a skewed perception that everyone is better at Wordle than you because people only share their best scores?
We play the Spanish Wordle, which seems easier somehow. Is it because English is just such an inconsistent hodgepodge of a language?
We wonder why Wordle picked “cynic” and not “cupid” on Valentine’s day.
We note which words do not show up in Wordle. “Bouge” is there, but “queso” is not.
We talk about what it means that The New York Times bought Wordle. Wordle was a game of the people, inspired by love, not a paywall-protected premium game or a get-rich-quick scheme. Yet still, it’s nice to have it next to Spelling Bee.
We trade ideal starting words. Here are a few of ours:
(This week, I’ve been using “loser.”)
We close the game 2048 for awhile, which held the same tiled spot in our hearts.
We feel, somehow, like we dreamed Wordle into existence.
We think about a time when Wordle will be a memory, one that made us hate the word “dodge” for six hours.
We wonder what the next Wordle will be, and if it will feel as joyful as briefly remembering the word “robin” exists on your third guess.