... 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.
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
ReplyDeleteYour games sounds like it must be a lot of fun. Embrace the madness (but change the kitty litter!)
ReplyDeletecheers,
Laurie