The Kardashians killed the word obsessed (and the word literally) but there was a time when it meant something more than the feeling you get when you like something and want to wear/use/see/share it with the world. An all-consuming prevailing thought that snuffs out everything else is the most well-known of the genre but there are of course varying degrees (I am sure cursory interest and mild enthusiasm are somewhere on the spectrum). I fall under the slightly addictive fixation that I likely have some yet to be uncovered obsession. I think that is due in large part to my somewhat careful nature.
I have sat transfixed during an episode (or ten) of “My Strange Addiction”, a show that ran on Discovery Health at one point (is that channel still happening? I will have to scroll through the guide tonight. Also, A baby Story? Does that still run? Love that show. I guess I loved it before I had my own baby, but still). Hmm. Maybe bad television is my obsession…But the show, though it seemed suggestive it nature to me, was really pretty odd. Some people eat toilet paper. As in, for a snack, not because there were no other food options around them. There was a lady who ate chalk and another woman who ate couch cushions. Seriously, the foam filling in couches. Best not to try eating toilet paper, or chalk, or couch cushion foam, I surmised, likely too addictive.
As for actual obsessions I am pretty boring. I appreciate a good candle. I enjoy reading. Coffee makes me happy and I probably wash my hands on the slightly alarming side of normal. I love my family but they are primarily free spirits who would be less of themselves if I tried to keep them Rapunzel style for long. There is chocolate and wood fired pizza, both of which I can eat more than my fair share of, but days go by without thinking of either of them. I turn around every few days wondering if I locked the front door (but that is because leaving my house with the girls in the morning is, I am willing to bet, a lot like spending time in a mosh pit – once I clear it I wonder what the heck happened). I pray to Saint Anthony when I lose things and St. Jude for just about everything else – but not religiously (ha, ha, little joke). I am guilty of listening to a song or album on repeat until I can recite it. But that is all I have got. And I am grateful. These things aren’t obsessions but somehow the term “things I like” is a bit of a buzzkill and recalls (for me) writing in glitter pen inside my Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper.
I am not obsessed with anything (yawn) but that is okay with me. Maybe one day alongside the “Live for Coffee” and “Rose all Day” tee shirts in Target there will be a prefect slogan shirt for me too… I am thinking “I wash my hands and won’t eat your couch” would pretty much fly off the shelves. Who is with me?