The Seedy Underbelly of Blog Addiction
Warning: This post may be unsuitable for the faint of heart, the tidy, the perfectionist, or anyone else who is going to criticize my housekeeping and blog addiction. Oh, and FLYbabies. If you’re a FLYbaby, you may want to skip this post.
Caveat: Any similarities between Chilihead and anyone you know (including yourself) are completely coincidental. However, if you see yourself or a loved one in this post, please, PLEASE seek help. I offer this post as a public service announcement. If only I’d been warned before I started or if my family had seen the signs, perhaps I could have been saved. If this post helps just one person, my purpose here will have been fulfilled.
There is an aspect of blogging that no one talks about. A dirty little secret if you will (no pun intended). It is the seedy underbelly of blog addiction.
When I started blogging two years ago my posts were intermittent at best. I did a few here and there and usually only when I feeling ultra-creative or “poetic”. You know, just social blogging. Then this past December a “friend” asked if I blogged. As we discussed it she encouraged me to blog more. And more. She even invited me to blog with her at her house. She pointed me to other bloggers that were interesting. Then she showed me how to increase traffic to my site and how to subscribe to webrings. In short, she hooked me up. I was feeling the rush and I didn't want it to end.
Now I spend hours blogging, thinking of blogging, advertising blogging, and reading blogs. Forget the housework and the kids. Forget my husband. I’m just looking for my next blog.
As I posted a few days ago, I took a forced break from the blogging scene to prove I could do it. The following pictures were taken during that forced break. These pictures are graphic and may not be suitable for all audiences.
This photo shows dirty laundry in the front pile, clean laundry in the back pile. When my children asked if they had clean clothes, I vaguely motioned to either pile without taking my eyes off my blog. I still have no idea what they were wearing to school. Or if they got to school.
The tea ring is a result of my DTs while I tried to pour some iced tea directly from the pitcher I just brewed it in. That tea maker and ring stayed there for three days. The dishes where just the tip of the ice burg. The dishwasher was full and there were more in the bottom of the sink. My children begged for cereal bowls, but I pretended I couldn’t hear them. Since I hadn't swept the floors in weeks surely they would find stray bits of Cheerios somewhere down there.
Dustbunnies, er, full-grown rabbits:
It has been weeks since I have swept, dry-mopped, or wet-mopped. How can I possibly do floors when I could be reading this or this or this? Or this? And don't forget this!
Ladies and gentlemen, don't do what Bobby Don't does. Save yourselves.