My Secret Addiction

I want it.

And I want it bad.

Most days, when I'm in the right situation to acquire one, I ask for it. I'm pretty persistent about it, too. If the person who can provide it to me doesn't hear me quite right, I ask again. I ask louder. I ask more clearly. I flag that person down and will mime if I need to, my friend. I WILL MIME.

I will find a way to get it.

Sometimes, I involve my children. They don't love it when I do that, but I need it, you know?

"Go ask him for it."

"No, Mom, you do it."

"No, you do it. Go see if he'll give you one. Please?"

---

"Pretty please?"

When my son returns it, I want to kiss his feet. I finally have my hands around it and can finally work on getting my breathing more steady. I look around and I see that usually I'm the only one so intent on acquiring one. I'm the only whose addiction is sort of out-of-control.

I'm the only one who is all unsettled if I leave the place where I can get it and I don't have it. I can't stop thinking about it until I realize it's just not going to come true. While it is within my reach, though, I will think about it. I will want it.

You don't even want to know what I do if I accidentally leave it behind, which, like, almost never happens. I take pretty good care of it once it's finally mine, mine, mine.

"Kelley, why do you always need one?"

"I do. I just do. I don't feel like I can leave here without one. It makes me feel better. My basic needs feel more met with one. IT MAKES ME HAPPY."

(My husband doesn't really get it. I don't think you'd really consider him an enabler.)

I know it is a pretty bad addiction because I get all cranky if someone stands in my way. If the person that I know can help me get my fix tells me that they are out of it or he can give me a smaller one than usual, my eyebrows immediately furrow together. They do at least on the inside. On the outside, I try to keep it even. I need to be as nice as possible. I can't risk the person that holds the key just walking away and not giving me what I need.

What is it, you want to know?

Do I really need to tell you?

What?

Oh, you're right. I am writing a blog post here. Telling you is kind of the point.

OKAY.

Don't think bad of me?

I'm addicted to...








THIS:

Source

The "to go" cup.

Only mine is full of iced tea with a lid and straw ready to quench my thirst at a moment's notice.

And I request one at every restaurant I ever go to unless that restaurant has fancy white tablecloths and really, really attentive waiters and valet and such.

I know. Go ahead. Point and ridicule.

I'm ready.