Hooked

I have come to the gruesome realization I am addicted to doing things I should not. Nothing major, but things like smoking in my flat when the contract clearly states I am not allowed to. Picking my nose on the tube a little bit when nobody is looking. That sort of thing. Now I’m planning to give up smoking but have every intention of getting a little furry pet, despite the fact my contract states ‘no pets’! And since I am considering of getting rats (would love a cat but I don’t want to be keeping a cat indoors and if I let it out, people in my block would know!) eg every landlord’s worst nightmare.

If the letting agency have to come round in an emergency, I’d be screwed. They won’t do that very often, but shit happens. Mind you, I am an experienced keeper of pets who won’t tell her parents about them. A friend once said ‘You never lie, apart from pet-related lies’. And he had a point there. I don’t lie to people and I do mean what I say, even when I’m saying stupid or inappropriate things, I am usually brutally honest.

So what is it with the excitement of doing stuff I’m not supposed to do. Why did I take the plug for the bath tub with me when I moved out? (ok, guess I wanted to annoy my old flatmate). Why did I badly paint the hallway of my old flat in the vain hope nobody would see the great big bike tyre marks?

Weirdly, despite the fact I am very strong willed, I do seem to have a very addictive personality. I obsess over stuff. I smoke. Thank God I never took up drugs and am a lightweight drinker. Instead I obsess over little things, like how coffee should be, what chocolate is good, strange bags and morning routines. And if anything or anyone disturbs my routine, my day shall be ruined from then on. At least until lunchtime. Probably not quite OCD, but somewhere on that scale.