Yesterday morning, as I was compulsively blog-hopping, telling myself I really needed to be in the shower & on the way to work, I happened upon Nadine’s humorous account of finding herself similarly addicted. She captures it so well: Nadine writes,
“My skirting boards are getting grubbier and grubbier as I sit at my computer considering what to include in my bio at Thirty Voices. The bathroom is getting mouldier as I type up new entries in A Trillion Kisses. My new electric piano gathers dust as I consult the Urban Dictionary to look up the meaning of “skeevy”. I can’t even be bothered to shift the clusters of Greg’s alcohol flagons that have made their way back into the house because I’m too busy checking for comments.”
I thought, OMG, this woman knows me! Whatever skirting boards are (she’s in Australia) if I had them, mine would be getting grubbier and grubbier, too! Mouldy bathroom – yep! Dust gathering, got it! Frequent trips to the dictionary, yeah. (My MacBook Pro lets me keep the e-dictionary as a pop up on the lower left — I can fly the curser over with lightening speed to find just the right words.) And if Greg’s alcohol flagons are anything like Andy’s beer bottles …. hello? Parallel universe over here! Except, I’m not chasing around little boy offspring types . . . You moms are completely amazing at juggling all that you juggle. Big salute to you.
So back to yesterday morning . . . even though I was late for work and still in my pajamas, I decided I needed to comment on Nadine’s post – and once there, I came across this link to a site called Bloggers Anonymous. It was so me.
So I did something I’m proud of. When I got to work, strolling in at what still feels like a too-tardy hour (despite the fact that my boss once told me he trusts me to get the work done in the hours that I see fit), I went straight to the I.T. department, leaned my forehead against the office doorjamb and said, “I need an intervention! I’m addicted to my blog!”
Thuy (pronounced Twee): You’ve got a blog?
Ruth: Yes, and I can’t stop obsessing over it. I started at a group site, and it wasn’t enough to feed my urges, so now I have my own and I need to set some limits!
Thuy: Do you want us to block you?
Ruth: No! I’m going to try to control this on my own. I’m here so you can hold me accountable. I’m going to stay off the blog during work hours.
Thuy: ‘Cause we can block you . . .
Ruth: No! I need to try on my own first.
Thuy: What’s the address?
Ruth: You’re not going to block me are you?
Thuy: No, I’m not going to block you.
Ruth: Because I think I can do this on my own.
Thuy: What’s the address?
Thuy: Oh, you use WordPress?
He stopped by both my blog and Thirty Voices which was great, because I could get one last glimpse before heading to my newly declared “No Blog Zone” desk.
Later in the day I went back to the I.T. Department. This time Thuy was out, but Lap (our resident genius, wine connoisseur & stock market whiz kid) was there. I went through the whole drill with him–the doorjamb whining, the vow of abstinence.
Lap: We can block you . . .
Ruth: No! I can do it on my own. But I’m allowing myself meal breaks. If I’ve got lunch or dinner in front of me, and I’m eating at my desk, I can check my stats.
Lap: Are you sure? Because it’s easy to block you.
Ruth: I’m going to try it this way.
Lap: Did Thuy show you his blog? He uses WordPress, too.
Ruth: [Eyebrows raising] Thuy has a blog? He didn’t mention that earlier.
Ruth: Thuy! Wow! You’re incredible. Can I post linking to your blog?
Thuy: Sure, I like more traffic.
I wonder how often he checks his stats?
Today I nearly kept my abstinence vow. I was tempted to follow Monica’s Haiku prompt right in the middle of $120K worth of invoicing, but resisted, “Focus, Ruth. You can do your Haiku at home.”