Here is a list of things I may be addicted to:
First thing in the morning, last thing at night. And every five minutes in between. I get nervous when I'm away from a terminal for more than 20 minutes, and I'm always sure something good is about to arrive.
Here it is mid-June, and I'm still trying to justify wearing wool socks and sweaters. "Well, it might get cold tonight."
This is kind of a stretch, but I have had slurpees six times in the last month, and that's probably more than I've had in the entire rest of my life combined. Maybe I can endure life without them, but I don't really want to try.
I have to work pretty hard at holding myself to four a week. It doesn't help that they're so freaking good, and the hot dog stand is just at the end of my block.
Here is a list of things I could be addicted to, if I put my mind to it:
Let's say I wasn't broke. Or let's say I was from a beer-making or distributing family. Then I would have both motive and opportunity to drink a whole bunch of beer every night. See saloonist.
Last summer, I probably consumed upwards of 10 (bars? packets? tubes?) units of Fla-Vor-Ice daily. This summer, I would be doing the same thing, except I haven't gotten around to buying and freezing the frosty treat yet.
I could live on cheese, if only I wouldn't die of malnutrition or heart attack or something.
Same with eggs.
Here is a list of things I'm for sure not addicted to:
I remarked to Bob the other day that being interested in someone for sexual reasons is like being interested in climbing Mt. Everest for aching muscles and being short-of-breath reasons.
I can go days, even weeks, without doing anything for pay.
I can't remember the last time I was in a body of water.
Yeah, I can take or leave this.