Time flies when you have an addiction

At least this much can be said for me: when I realize I'm addicted, I quit. When we moved to America eleven years ago I had my last cigarette at Barajas airport in Madrid (actually that's a lie, but more on that later), so entering a new phase of my life filled with plenty of stress and culture-shock without the help of nicotine. For a while now I have been fighting the feeling that I should not be spending so much time playing games on Facebook, but it was a quiet background noise in my head, easy to ignore. Until Oscar said to me last night: "You've got a problem. What happened to your writing?" It wasn't the first time he said it but this time I was ready. I deleted Yoville, Farmville and Cafe World. I mean, what was I thinking? The release and sense of liberation was immediate. I spent all afternoon playing with my beautiful daughter and now here I am, writing my blog for the first time since July 22, after having read all the copies of Writer's Digest that had been accumulating on my "to read" pile. I feel quite chuffed with myself for making a clean break.

Just to explain my earlier comment about smoking, I did quit cold turkey but I smoke like a chimney when I visit Israel or Spain. Maybe a good reason to stay put? We'll see.