As a word nerd from way back, I love a good crossword – themed or more general, simple or fiendishly complex. I used to work the TV Guide crossword as a kid (remember when it came to our houses in paper form?), even though I never knew more than half the clues. And as an adult, I’ve become a devotee of the New York Times crossword.
I love the daily Mini for its quick hit of accomplishment, and the larger puzzles for the different experiences they provide on different days. Monday starts out slow and sweet, only requiring a little stretch outside my brain’s daily round of tasks and to-do lists. Tuesday is similar, though sometimes a bit harder. These early rounds don’t even always have a theme. They’re a cinch to complete in between work emails, toggling back and forth from spreadsheets and text messages to the pleasing symmetry of lines and squares.
By Wednesday there might be a fiendish pun or two, or a handful of words turning normal wordplay conventions inside out. There’s sometimes an obscure athlete or actress, or a pop culture phenomenon from two generations ago. But Thursday is when the (metaphorical) claws come out.
Thursday is full of tricky double entendres, themes that are only connected if you squint at them sideways, and sometimes even the dreaded double-letters-in-one-square. Thursday still looks manageable, even enticing – but it rarely is. I still enjoy it, though I sometimes give up in exasperation, taking Friday and/or Saturday off before coming back for Sunday. When I do attempt the weekend days, I almost always learn something – even if I also shake my head and despair at either the creators’ diabolical wordplay or my own lack of crossword ingenuity.
Sometimes I think I spend too much time on the crossword – but one of its gifts is that it’s finite. Once it’s done (and the catchy jingle plays), it’s done. I can cross it off my mental list. Until tomorrow morning.
cakes, tea and dreams 