Admitting a problem is half the battle

I met a new person this morning at church. She seemed perfectly lovely until someone asked for her email address. “Oh, I rarely check email,” was her reply. Um, hello?! How can you rarely check email? I must check mine two or three times every thirty minutes. My laptop is in the kitchen which is where I spend the majority of my day. When I hear the chime announcing I’ve received an email I am drawn to my desk like a moth to flame. There is precious little that could keep me from clicking to see my messages.

This never really struck me as a problem. I mean, what’s wrong with keeping up with the mail? Nothing, that’s what. But the other day I was in the middle of fixing a grilled cheese sandwich for Rebecca (any suggestions on lunch options for her would be appreciated because I am sorely tired of fixing grilled cheese sandwiches) when I heard the chime announcing an email had arrived. I was still waiting for the cheese to melt so I flitted over to the computer for a quick peek at the new email.

Five minutes later the smell of burning bread and cheese brought my nose out of the laptop and instantly I remembered what I was doing before reading the email from DSW which led me to their website where I became mesmerized by their new ankle booties and completely forgot about the sandwich I’d left to burn on the stove.

Is there a support group for compulsive email-checkers? Maybe there’s one on-line…