I really can’t figure out why I’m still playing Hay Day.

But at this point, it’s more of a compulsion than a game. Not that I planned on it, but I stayed up late last night to make sure I could get the right crops planted to make my next boat shipment. Really!?! C’mon. There are so many more productive things that I could be doing with my time. Reading. Sleeping. Working out/running. Grading papers. But I’m not. Maybe I should just supplement feeding digital cows with my writing/blogging/journaling for a while until I stop caring if that idiot farmer Greg one plot over gets the soybeans he’s been looking for.
I suppose that I can see the draw. A hearkening back to our agricultural roots, getting up early, working the land, slowly expanding our livelihoods through the sweat of our collective brows and the strength of our backs. Except with one finger. And nobody cares if the pigs starve or the sheep freeze. And, really, who would eat bacon pie?!?
But, really, psychologically, it kind of makes sense. A twisted, digital sense of accomplishment. Finishing a truck order, filling all the ridiculous little boxes for the Tom Sawyer riverboat… Sometimes that might be the only thing I could think of that I actually “DID” in a day. In a world of painfully successive meetings, conference calls, vision sessions, collaborative reviews, and audits, selling pumpkins, sweaters, and chili popcorn (is that a thing?) feels like an accomplishment. Moving the ball forward in some minuscule way.

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