It wasn’t a problem at first. I only did it on the weekends, socially. Then I started to allow myself one or two after work to unwind. Before I knew it, I needed a couple before bed to help me sleep, then a few after I woke up in the morning to get going. Even though too many made my head pound, I had trouble knowing when to stop. When my husband started objecting and I began sneaking around, making excuses and hiding the evidence from him, I knew it had gotten completely out of control.

No, I’m not talking about cocaine or alcohol. I’m addicted to word games.

My gateway drug was Scrabble. I played it when I was growing up. Later I introduced my kids to it. Two of them became devotees themselves and now beat me more often than not. The fierce competition among us has always made it especially exciting. But the last few times we’ve gotten together as a family, nobody has wanted to join me in a game because, thanks to the Internet and smart phones, everyone (me included) now can play at any time, day or night, with or without a real opponent. It’s not special any more.

I do still play Scrabble with my son—electronically. I don’t find the Kindle version nearly as satisfying as the in-person one with the real board and the plastic tiles that rattle when you shake them up in their brown felt bag.  Without the evocative tactile and auditory reminders of the games I played with my parents and of those with my kids when they were younger, I find the whole experience rather sterile. Besides, my son’s playing habits consist of making one move and then not responding to mine for the next four or five days. It goes much too slowly for my taste.

So I started competing against the computer, which is either too challenging (it gets a “Bingo” and fifty bonus points by using up all its letters at least three times during the course of a round) or not challenging enough (I always win), depending on whether you set it for “Hard” or “Normal.” I’ve also tried playing with random strangers. I often lose (the people who compete in Scrabble on-line seem pretty hard core) or end up with the same frustration I feel in games with my son if my opponent takes too long to make a move.

Words with Friends is Scrabble Lite as far as I’m concerned. It’s much easier to score big. At first I distained it, especially since I almost always win games against unknown opponents. But now I play against my hairstylist—usually four games simultaneously—and because she’s seriously into it and responds to my moves immediately from her iPhone (between snips, I imagine), I’m hooked.

I wish we could have stopped there. But a few weeks ago while she was blow-drying my hair, she casually mentioned Word Shaker, a word scramble game like Boggle. Now I curse the day I purchased the app for $1.99.

I’m not very good at it because it requires visual-spatial acuity—not my strong suit. My sense of direction is famously poor, so backwards-spelled words don’t jump out at me. But its features—a timer and instant rankings—make it irresistible for performance-oriented people like me.

If Scrabble is the gateway drug, then Word Shaker is the crack of word games.

I know my husband would like to stage an intervention. But he can’t enlist anyone’s help. They’re all playing, too.

Last night my son and I actually sat down for a live round of Scrabble. And we also traded the Kindle between moves to get in a few quick games of Word Shaker while we waited for each other to place our tiles. (He’s much better at Word Shaker than I am, having achieved the ranking of #1 in the world on more than one occasion.) That’s when I realized my social playing has become a full-blown, binge-gaming habit.

I’m going to quit cold turkey. Really. I am.

Tomorrow.