The grouches on social media don’t like it when people post their Wordle scores. The sight of that grid filled with little green squares makes them crazy. As in: “People don’t care about your mediocre linguistic episodes!” Ouch.

    The Wordle backlash is real and utterly predictable. Too many of us are simply not wired to smugly condemn others in our own heads like God intended. No, it’s the internet equivalent of dunking the nerd’s head in the toilet at recess. You have to make a big show of dissing something. Dumb word game. Gimme your lunch money and get off my feed.

I agree there should be some restraint. You should only post your Wordle score if it’s truly noteworthy. Like the time I guessed correctly on the first line. Yes. I. Did. Of course, this was greeted with some entirely appropriate memes declaring me a witch. Which I can neither confirm nor deny. All I know is the word “mount” popped into my skull. I typed it in, mostly because it had two vowels and a “t” in it (usually a nice start) and, “wah-lah,” it was the word of the day!

    I am obsessed with Wordle. It’s a simple, elegant little puzzler typically solved –or not—in under 5 minutes. I love its refusal to overdo, over complicate, make mysterious. I love its unapologetic old-school “we don’t need no stinkin’ app” vibe. There’s just one puzzle a day. You get 6 chances to guess the 5-letter word in the grid. You solve it or not and then must wait until the next day for the clean, fresh-start grid brimming with hope and possibilities to challenge you anew. Not to be dramatic or anything.

    Wordle requires us to wait which is not something we Americans are built for. We are not a patient people. When I learned I’d have to wait TWENTY-TWO MONTHS for the new season of “Ozark” to drop, I asked to speak to the manager of Netflix. You do realize that’s the exact gestation period of an African bush elephant, right? How is it possible anything short of producing a 265-pound birth weight elephant should take so long? It’s a dozen actors on a lake near Atlanta. Figure it out, geniuses.

    Then again, it’s possible I’ve overthought this.

    You might wonder how such a simple, dare I say antiquated game allows you to post your score to the internet. I mean I’m going on and on about this like it’s something John Boy and his siblings would chat about beside the potbelly stove at Ike Godsey’s store. (Ask your parents.) The ability to share is truly the only high-tech thing about this updated version of the old Jott-O paper word-guessing game you may have played with your maiden aunt while she got you all sugar high on pecan divinity and Raisinets that always seemed to have a little cat hair on them. What? Just me?

    The answer is there’s a “share” button. But of course. I tried not to “share” that time I guessed right on the first try—did I mention that already?—but how could I not? If the wordle is guessed on the first try and no one sees it on Facebook, did it really happen?

    Of course not. The world needed to know. Was it a fluke? Was I psychic as I’ve long suspected? Was it really necessary for me to tell everyone in the line at the grocery store about it?

    The only sour note was when a Facebook pal announced she’d done the very same thing that day. Braggy cow.

    The New York Times just bought Wordle. Here’s hoping they don’t make us pay like they do for every dumb recipe they publish. See link in bio? Not today, Satan.