My Secret Addiction


I want it.

And I want it bad.

Most days, when I’m in the right situation to acquire one, I ask for it. I’m pretty persistent about it, too. If the person who can provide it to me doesn’t hear me quite right, I ask again. I ask louder. I ask more clearly. I flag that person down and will mime if I need to, my friend. I WILL MIME.

I will find a way to get it.

Sometimes, I involve my children. They don’t love it when I do that, but I need it, you know?

“Go ask him for it.”

“No, Mom, you do it.”

“No, you do it. Go see if he’ll give you one. Please?”

“Pretty please?”

When my son returns it, I want to kiss his feet. I finally have my hands around it and can finally work on getting my breathing more steady. I look around and I see that usually I’m the only one so intent on acquiring one. I’m the only whose addiction is sort of out-of-control.

I’m the only one who is all unsettled if I leave the place where I can get it and I don’t have it. I can’t stop thinking about it until I realize it’s just not going to come true. While it is within my reach, though, I will think about it. I will want it.

You don’t even want to know what I do if I accidentally leave it behind, which, like, almost never happens. I take pretty good care of it once it’s finally mine, mine, mine.

“Kelley, why do you always need one?”

“I do. I just do. I don’t feel like I can leave here without one. It makes me feel better. My basic needs feel more met with one. IT MAKES ME HAPPY.”

(My husband doesn’t really get it. I don’t think you’d really consider him an enabler.)

I know it is a pretty bad addiction because I get all cranky if someone stands in my way. If the person that I know can help me get my fix tells me that they are out of it or he can give me a smaller one than usual, my eyebrows immediately furrow together. They do at least on the inside. On the outside, I try to keep it even. I need to be as nice as possible. I can’t risk the person that holds the key just walking away and not giving me what I need.

What is it, you want to know?

Do I really need to tell you?


Oh, you’re right. I am writing a blog post here. Telling you is kind of the point.


Don’t think bad of me?

I’m addicted to…



The “to go” cup.

Only mine is full of iced tea with a lid and straw ready to quench my thirst at a moment’s notice.

And I request one at every restaurant I ever go to unless that restaurant has fancy white tablecloths and really, really attentive waiters and valet and such.

I know. Go ahead. Point and ridicule.

I’m ready.


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