Looking for a new lifestyle, maybe change from an extroverted socialite to an introverted recluse. It's quite an experience as I find myself spending more and more time at home taking time to trim the hedges, organize my files, and keep the floors spic 'n span. Passing up two opportunities to sail in local events that just a few months ago I would not have thought of missing made me realize what an addiction sailing can be. . .
As defined by my 1951 Webster's Dictionary an addiction is simply, "a habitual inclination." I'm certainly inclined to spend eternity sailing in a 15 knot breeze on the beam in a two foot swell. But, maybe it was because I am of the peace, love, and ___ generation that an addiction always conjurs up an incontrollable urge to satisfy one's hunger for that next indulgence. An uncontrollable urge is somewhat different from an inclination; don't you think?
Taking advantage of some help to tidy up around the house on Saturday and Sunday I know I was making a conscious decision to pass on sailing. By Sunday night I was exhausted. On Monday, I fell asleep at least once every 15 or 20 minutes while mindlessly doing routine paperwork. It was an unusual day at the office as I only had one interuption in 9 hours. Normally, I am interupted every five minutes, sometimes several interuptions occur simultaneously. When I got home about 4 pm, I plopped on the couch with my "Millionaire in a Minute" book, but instantly fell asleep. So much for making money.
When I awakened two hours later I did some home filing, but was quickly off to dreamland by 9 pm and didn't wake until 6 in the morning. I was so cranky and irritable. While struggling to put on my workout gear I recalled a call from a friend on Sunday night wondering why I hadn't sailed all week-end. My comrades were worried and wanted to make sure I was O.K. (see my previous blog about being O.K.) Anyway, I explained I didn't care about being in charge of the sunfish fleet, and didn't care how our treasury was spent. I said I was tired, and feeling too overwhelmed with my life to deal with such trivia.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOhhhhhhhhhhhhh, How rude? How inconsiderate? The sunfish folks and other local sailors have continued to treat me nicely these past few months and then I scowl at them, the way a junkie might do at the first stage of withdrawal. By the time I barely finished a P90X core workout I realized the depression was initiated by a sense of overwhelming frustration because I was smart enough to take advantage of some help around the house. Using a chain saw on an extension ladder to trim the palm fronds was definitely best left to someone a bit stronger than I. So, I chose some inexpensive help, became more depressed when I realized the savings still drained my diminishing bank account, then scowled at folks who cared about me, fell asleep at work, ate too much quinoa macaroni, and wondered whether sailing is really an addiction.
Well, if you were in school during the 1950s and 1960s then my friend Webster was probably one of your greatest resources. If Webster said the addiction is a habitual indulgence, then I agree, albeit he didn't mention a true addiction has its terrible demise when one withholds indulging. Does this all make sense??????????????????????????
It does to me, though, as I praise my maker and ultimate controller that I was given the gift of only two addictions, chocolate and sailing................................................................................................................................
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