My addiction is by far one of the most insidious and surprising things I can think of: diet coke. Insidious how, you might wonder? Well...
a) it isn't illegal so I can get it almost everywhere at any time without fear of reprisal or consequences (unless Scott is close by and I swear that man can hear me thinking about it);
b) it is relatively cheap so you never hear of someone hitting rock bottom as a result of their addiction to it; and
c) to my knowledge, no one has ever cited diet coke as a contributing factor to the demise of their marriage or died as a result of their addiction to it, unless you count those idiots who die from tipping pop machines (and I would bet they are mostly Mountain Dew drinkers anyway so good riddance!).
However, I swear that whoever developed this drink somehow Frankensteined together the most addictive elements of crack, nicotine, and shopping to create a bottle of fizzy goodness I have never been able to resist...until now...because, of course, Babybug shouldn't have Aspartame.
So here I sit.
Primly drinking my Vitamin Water.
Staring at an ancient bottle of diet coke on my desk desperately wishing it was full of the aforementioned fizzy goodness.
6 months and 3 weeks more of this to go, people. In the meantime, if you see me perched on top of a pop machine mumbling to myself, please talk me down gently and whatever you do, don't tell Scott!