I think I have an addictive personality. Perhaps it’s the Irish in me. Or would that be “methinks its ‘cause I’m an Irish lass”? Either way, there you have it.
Now, I don’t have addictions that will get me fired from jobs or thrown in rehab (*cough* Lindsay Lohan *cough cough*). Mine are a lot more domestic. Like reading. I think I’m addicted to reading.
And eating. OH, how I love food. MMM, that could be an addiction right? I’m addicted to Facebook and reading other blogs. I’m addicted to celebrity gossip sites and lately, cookbooks.
Are you noticing a pattern here? I’ve got my addictions. And they’re all very sedentary activities. Son of a biscuit.
I’ve got friends who say things like “I’m addicted to running” or “I’m addicted to the gym.” Um, really? How is that possible?!?? When you have to FORCE yourself to get up and out the door, it’s not like it’s a willing addiction. It’s a battle between your mind (oooh comfy couch) and your body (oooh size 8 – in some cases. Not mine. Hmph. Anyway). And then you see those people out running in the cold and the rain and all I can think of is how happy I am that I am not them at that point in time. And then I start thinking about curling up with a book and a blankie, near a fire (well, when we install a fireplace I guess). And that is bliss to me.
Hmm, where’s that box of Wheat Thins?
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