Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Bless me Father for I ...

... have become addicted to playing a game on Facebook.  I can't stop.  I can't help myself.  I am ashamed.  I've ignored my blog.  I've ignored the library; over-due fines of 10-cents a day are piling up on Per Petterson's Out Stealing Horses and a volume of James Lees-Milne's journal called Deep Romantic Chasms.  I've ignored meals except what was quickest and easiest to fix.  I didn't change the kitty litter.  I didn't get notes written for two sympathy cards I bought.  I played this mind-numbing game for up to 3 to 4 hours each evening; 6, 7 & 8 hours on Saturdays and Sundays.  My mouse-moving hand would become almost paralyzed. 

When I had my annual check-up at the Veterans' Clinic in Hyannis my new doctor there, whom I really liked, did, after interviewing me, suggest that I should avail myself of one of the two psychologists or the one psychiatrist they have on staff there ... and I hadn't even told him about my obsession with a game.

Maybe posting "My name is George Fitzgerald and I am addicted ...." will help.

Sometimes my mood can become elevated by a little arraying of disarray and such, so I've ironed and folded that teal blue t-shirt I showed on my last post.


  1. George-glad to hear that my brother is only possibly sick in the head; not body. Had begun to worry about you as there had been no new postings. Take care. Love you. Sheila

  2. Your games sounds like it must be a lot of fun. Embrace the madness (but change the kitty litter!)