I’m pretty sure the gods of telephone solitaire were fucking with me this morning. I imagine their conversation going something like this:
God 1: ah jeez she’s playing solitaire in bed again
God 2: why doesn’t she get up already and accomplish one of those things she keep saying she’s going to accomplish?
God 1: because she thinks about those things before she’s really awake…then she forgets
God 2: well, shit.
God 1: let’s just give her a bunch of crappy games in a row, maybe she’ll give up
*waits through three crappy games*
God 2: oh god, she’s doing that thing where she wants to quit but can’t let herself until she wins just one more
God 1: Fuuuuuuuuuck
God 2: Hold on I‘ve got an idea… “HEY GOD OF DOGS CAN YOU SEND THAT MUTT IN TO LAY RIGHT ON TOP OF HER BLADDER FOR A WHILE?!”
*waits through two more crappy games*
God 2: Christ on Ice, this is taking forever. Just give her a good game so she can get the hell out of bed. That list of goals isn’t going to write and then ignore itself, amiright? *laughs*
God 1: Yeah, you speak the Truth homeslice. For real.
*I win a game and finally get out of bed*
Amanda Janik 
I don’t want to sound paranoid, but this almost exactly describes my own, private solitaire playing. Do you have some way of seeing what I’m doing on my computer through that little camera above the screen even though I keep it turned off and covered with black electrical tape??? Stop spying on me and using my habits as fodder for your column Missy! 😉
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I think everyone who plays solitaire regularly has some sort of inner dialogue going, haha 🙂
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