There is a tiny space under one's profile picture on facebook in which one is encouraged to "write something about yourself". For a woman of few words, this is an easily accomplished feat but for one with a more, shall we say expressive (perhaps even bordering on emotionally unstable;), personality, this provides quite the challenge. For months, I filled that tiny space with two words, "I write".
Imagine them being said in a rather bored, superior, snobbishly intellectual tone. But now, today, October 31st at 9:21 pm, those words are not enough. I must continue!
Not only do I write.
I also buy an embarrassing amount of tea. I drink it only occasionally but for whatever reason, I can't stop purchasing more. It is very strange and I do not consider words like compulsion and addiction as too strong to describe this bizarre desire to acquire more and more tiny tea bags that I arrange in rows in a large basket according to color and size.
Even today, as I passed a local health shop, I felt the tug to just go in and take a peek at the numerous delights, at the teas claiming to do any number of things, yet with true determination, I resisted.
I chose to keep walking, setting a brisk pace and gazing steadily ahead, which I did. I paused after passing the shop door to congratulate myself and there in lay my failure. As a reward, I turned around and flew into the shop that had tempted me so greatly, smiling confidently at nobody in particular as though it was perfectly normal to feel this way about reading tea labels. I stood for a quiet moment before the shelves of tea, promising myself "I'm only looking, I won't buy any...I don't need any...really, everyone does this..."
I looked, I wistfully reading the poetic names (in my head of course), imagining the scents of the crushed leaves, both sweet and spicy...when I saw there a tiny box colored beautiful with pictures of entwining dragons claiming to be a "tension tamer and to quell the dragons in your day". I don't know if I have any particular dragons in my day to be quelled but it was just too much! I had to have that tea.
In one swift movement it was in my hands and I was walking toward the cashier. Money was exchanged and the tea bagged and handed to me which I quickly, almost stealthily buried in the bottom of my purse. I rushed out of the store, picturing how later I would unwrap it and set it in the basket at home and say breezily if anyone asked, (Allow me to point out no one actually WOULD ask as no one would actually notice.), that oh no, that wasn't a new tea, I've had it just ages...
Ah, there. The first step after all, is admitting it.