to self: Buy stock in companies making bread, milk and toilet paper
each January, assuming I get enough money someday to buy stock.
long for extreme conditions so they can keep track of our silly human
behavior. Some of these geeky folk would love to build giant mazes for
us to live in. These scientists could track how our mind works by
monitoring whether or not our heart beats faster when bells ring or when
whistles blow. They could see how long it would take us to learn to run
through the maze and receive a free cookie. They could watch us fight
each other because one person got a chocolate chip cookie and someone
else got a vanilla wafer. I can see the glee of the scientists as they
were given access to the human brain through watching our behavior if we
were stuck in a box.
Have you ever played the game, Desert
Island? You know, if you could take ten things to have with you while
you are stuck on a desert island, what would you take? Usually I’ve
heard it as taking one person on the island with you, or which ten
musical albums would you take. It’s a mental exercise to determine what
you value. In your head, you determine if you can live the rest of your
life only eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or if you really
truly can live without that ZZ Top album or if you could stand being
with a supermodel day in and day out.
None of this is necessary.
It appears that you’ve already determined what is really important to
you. It’s what you bought last Friday and Saturday when you knew there
was a huge blizzard coming in. Think about it. You planned as if snow
would have you buried until March, so you stocked up on bread, milk and
toilet paper. I saw the store shelves. I know you bought all that. But
what else did you make sure you had before the flakes flew? I would
submit that it is those things you made sure you had that you are
addicted to. It’s our “living in a maze” or “stuck on a desert island”
scenario. Extreme conditions descending from out of a scientists’
imagination is getting ready to befall you, so you run out and grab
Well, the obvious examples are beer and cigarettes. (Kinda
proves the whole addiction argument, eh?) If you can’t stand being
snowed in for a week without the cigs, this tells you what you probably
already knew. If you knew you couldn’t watch the Florida State-Auburn
game without a case of cold ones, congratulations on your addiction. A
friend of mine had a large diet cola delivered to her on Monday because
the pressure was mounting. I don’t know how it was delivered,
(snowmobile, unmanned drone, Meals on Wheels) but she was out and needed
some soda. I’d call that an addiction. Others I heard were pretzels,
ice cream, new books, diapers, and crossword puzzles. I’ve never had an
addiction to eating diapers, but apparently somebody does.
catch part of some TV show called Addictions the other night and saw
some huge woman who claims she is addicted to eating mattresses. Yeah,
that’s what I said. She eats those cheap foam rubber mattresses like
they were made of potato chips. I’d hate to see this lady craving a new
mattress in the middle of a foot-deep downfall, especially if she needs a
couple of pillows as chasers. Authorities would find her in an empty
house wrapped in buttons and zippers with breath smelling like foam
rubber. Nobody needs to see that.
So remember in your mind that
one thing you made sure was in the house before the ground was covered.
That’s your addiction. Can’t think of anything? You must have been
well-stocked already. Or not snowed in long enough. For those who had to
go cold turkey for a few hours, I’m sorry. And congratulations. I knew
you can do it.