- “Update: it’s toasty warm in here, but I think Mom ate sardines again—yuck.”
- “Status: sleepy.”
- “The Latest: my eyelashes have started to develop, and I think I am feeling fingernails as well.”
- “Question: do you think I might have a twin in here? or is that just a weird shadow?”
Blogging quickly became more than a fun little diversion or interesting new hobby. Like that left-over piece of chicken with cream and broccoli sauce that you forgot for a month in the back of the frig and now it turned into an unrecognizable space creature, my blogging addiction turned into something out of my control.It. Was. Bad.
I would come home from working a long day at the high-end kitchen store and instead of spending time with my beloved family or at least pretending to greet them, I would dash up to the study and click the computer on, chanting “Please-be-comments-please-be-comments-please-be-comments.” I would return from my weekly Target run, and before even unloading the red and white plastic bags full of cheap treasures, I would find myself in front of the computer clicking on “Blog Statistics” to see which posts were generating the most hits. In the middle of a quiet dinner with the family, I would make up some elaborate excuse about how I think I left a light on upstairs again and need to turn off this instant so the cat doesn’t accidentally knock it over and cause a huge fire while we’re eating but then I would zip upstairs and forget all about the lamp while I was re-reading my latest blog post and double checking for new followers.The Husband is, of course, on to me.
“Checking your blog again?” he inquires in a flat tone with the identical enthusiasm of a DMV clerk greeting his 189th driver’s license renewal of the day.“Checking your blog again?” mimic the children in the same world-weary manner, after hearing their father say it so many times.
So what? Yes, I am checking my blog again if you must know. It’s not the worst habit in the world. What if instead of checking my blog in my spare time, I went down to the animal shelter and got a puppy each time?
Or what if, instead of checking my blog, I went to the kitchen and ate a cookie each time?
Or, what if instead of checking my blog, I went to our basement work-out room and worked out for a few minutes each time?
The bottom line is: if I didn’t blog, I would be a dog-collecting, cookie-gorging, obese, skinny, work-out girl.
And who wants that?MOV
(“Mistress Of Vision”)