I never want to be excused of unrealized dreams. There are too many people whom  I see who seem to have no dreams, who stagger through each day with no other goal than to hear the closing bell and go home and collapse.  Since I've been back from vacation, I've felt the pull of that slippery slope and it's a quick slide if you lose your footing.

For some reason, my family seems to think that I've gone to the dark side. They are accusing me, their mother and wife, the woman who has books piled on her night table, on shelves and tables all over the house, the person who has knitting stashed here and there, a room full of art supplies, and totebag with journal and watercolors with her always, of being obseessed.

Seems the Pomegranates aren't used to their female figurehead wasting large amounts of time with a laptop  glued to her lap with no discernbile movement except a twitching index figure, jumpy eyes, and the occasional gleeful scream when a tower of bubbleballs fall and the scores rises.  Mesmerizing. Repetittive. Soothing.

A lot like drugs.

So I uninstalled Bubble Shooter after my family repeatedly pointed out to me if not once at least 50 times that I'm Always Playing That Game and it is a really Boring and Stupid Game.

Seems I'm held to a higher level, or at least that's how it appears as I walk through the living room and trip over the Game Cube and X Box cables.

I think I've kicked the habit, but there's always the ability to quickly reinstall.

Is there a self help group?