I have become one of those New York Times puzzle people

Do you sometimes log onto Facebook and see friends posting little graphics that look something like the image above? And do you ever wonder exactly what they are?

Or do you know what they are but you don't care and instead keep on scrolling while grumbling about people clogging up your feed?

Whichever may be true for you, I understand both ends of this equation. For a long time I would see Facebook pals posting about how long it took them to figure out the Wordle, or how frustrating that day's Connections was, and I would just scroll right past without giving it a second – or sometimes even a first – thought.

Until one day a couple of months ago when I downloaded the NYT Games app and became one of...Them.

Rarely does a day go by now when I don't play (in this order) the New York Times' Wordle, Connections, Strands and Mini games.

You can also do the full NYT Crossword on the app, along with games like Spelling Bee, Sudoku, Letter Boxed and Tiles, but I stick to my core four.

This is mostly because I don't have the time to play every game the paper offers, but also because, after mentally working my way through those four, I have little patience and even less mental energy left to devote to the others.

There is something to be said, as you get a little bit older, for stretching your brain through these types of puzzle games. And Lord knows my brain could use a little stretching, given all the things I either forget or fail to notice on a daily basis.

But ultimately, I just find them fun. And there's a sense of accomplishment when, for example, I get the Wordle in 2-3 guesses or figure out the four Connections categories without a single mistake.

I'm not one to post my results on Facebook, but I'm grateful for friends who do because I like getting tips from them or commiserating over a particularly devilish offering from the Times folks.

I encourage you to join our little cult community of puzzle people. It's fun. Really.

Believe me, no one is going to force you to start sharing your performance on Facebook.

You'll do that on your own with no prompting from any of us.

My wife is a puzzle person. I am not.

Terry recently completed a 2,000-piece jigsaw puzzle, and I can only assume she used some sort of voodoo magic to do it.

Never, not in a million years or for a million dollars, could I do a 2,000-piece puzzle. While we're at it, I should mention that 1,000, 500, 250, 200 and even 100 pieces are also out of the question for me.

One time, as a test, Terry gave me a 25-piece puzzle to complete, just to determine exactly how inept I am. Let the record show I did eventually get those 25 pieces to fit together, but I'm embarrassed to say how long I needed to complete the task.

It should take a reasonably intelligent adult 2 minutes – maybe – to do a 25-piece puzzle. It took me longer than 2 minutes. One might say "considerably" longer.

My complete lack of spatial sense and awareness prevents me from ever being a puzzle guy. Which is too bad, really, given how much fun puzzle people seem to have.

I know you're supposed to pull out the border pieces and put those together first, but...well, even with a straightforward, time-consuming, trial-and-error approach, I just can't visualize how connecting pieces are supposed to join up. I can't look at the knob on one piece and easily see how it fits into the slot on another.

It's just not how my brain works, which is one of many reasons I didn't choose carpenter or engineer as my profession.

As you might suspect, this mental shortcoming also makes it difficult to put together even the simplest home furniture or children's toys. Don't get me wrong, I get the job done. But you wouldn't believe the time and effort it takes for me to understand exactly how Tab A fits into Slot B.

On the other hand, I am masterful in my use of semicolons. They're about as practical these days as jigsaw puzzles, though, so maybe I shouldn't go around bragging.