I began seriously thinking about a need for intervention, when I bribed my 17 year old with take out Chinese and a tank full of gas in exchange for his silence. It just so happened that HE was home when the Amazon deliveries rolled in, instead of me.
Staggering under the weight of packages over several days, he finally said "If you're out of a job, how are you buying all this crafting crap?"
"Don't use that language! It's not 'crap'! They just happen to be 'supplies'."
"Hhmmph. They still cost money." he said.
"Gift certificates." I snapped. "Now, take my wallet and get the green card...not the green and gold card...that one's maxed out. But the green card I just made a payment on, so use that to go buy yourself some Chinese. Don't get a drink with it, though...that might be pushing the limit. Literally."
Ok...look. I'm OCD. I can't help that. For some reason, God decided that I would be best served with OCD AND ADHD. I kind of imagine it like God sitting back, chin in hand, saying "Let's name this one Carmen. Alright. let's start by throwing in some ADHD, so she has zero impulse control. Then, just for kicks, let's toss in some OCD-and not the good kind that would make her clean her house, let Me give her the kind that-when she ends up doing things her ADHD makes her do, her OCD will kick in and make her KEEP doing these things until they're right. Oh! I almost forgot...let Me make sure to put her in the lower middle class bracket so that she can't afford ANY of those impulses. Heh heh. Now...who's next. This guy? Oh, what the heck. Let's give him the name Bill Gates...I'm in the mood to make a billionaire."
Story of my life.
At any rate, it all started when I thought it would be a good idea to sit down and really try some mixed media. That's right...I'm one of the rare few who never jumped on the train and was okay with it. But I wanted to do something 'arty' and I didn't want to have to complete card after card. I just wanted to play. So, I visited Tim Holtz's blawg, and decided to try his December tag.
Everything after that is a bit of a blur. The next thing I knew, I was having weird feelings for grunge board and paint dabbers. My hands were stained, my clothes were ruined and I was going nuts because I didn't have tape or tissue paper or stamps or dies or spray stains....well...you get my drift.
The next thing I know, I'm ordering little bits here and there, putting little charges on all sorts of different cards. I actually felt like a knew what a drug addict went through! Secretly hiding my stash, claiming I'd had it all along, saying I borrowed stuff from other people, etc. etc. I swear I started thinking about getting the husband to coordinate an intervention.
Actually, I TRIED to get him involved, but he was too busy on the golf course.
So, I ordered some fun foam to makes stamps out of my dies. Because that would totally save me money. Except I needed some more dies to make the stamps I wanted. It's a never-ending cycle, people.
But I'm telling you, when the husband is done golfing and I find I'm unable to bribe my children in a way to which they're accustomed, I'll quit. I swear. Just one..more..bottle..of..distress..glitter....
Post a Comment