I am addicted to Twitter.
Truly, I am. I Tweet and Tweet and scroll and scroll, and re-Tweet and re-scroll. It’s simultaneously entertaining and annoying, and I’ve decided—for the sake of my sanity and my book deadline—to take a week off starting tomorrow.
But here’s the thing: I told the wife earlier that I’m gonna change my password; that I need her to keep it somewhere. She hates that; says I should have the self-control to stay off just by staying off.
Alas, I have no self-control. None. Extra piece of cake? No, I shouldn—gobble gobble gobble. Soda? Not, not drinki—glub, glub, glub. I’ve never tried any heavy drugs, and only smoked pot twice, in part because I fear my lack of self-control. I’m just being honest here. It sucks.
So, ultimately, I’ll probably change my password and give it to my mom or dad. Because, right now this isn’t about self-improvement.
It’s about getting shit done.
