Rehabs seem to be the in-thing amongst the commoners these days. Everyone is trying to amend their flaws, become the better individuals which they dream to be. Smoking, drinking, drugs, sex, you name an addiction there’s a rehab center, waiting to take you in, rip you off some money, and supposedly send you back as a better individual. Anyhow lets leave the rehabs out, this post is supposed to deal with addiction.
We get addicted to simplest of the things, may be it’s the morning cup of coffee, the side of the bed we sleep in, the soap we use, the table we chose in a restaurant. You name a field; we can spot the addiction there.
Over last 11 months, my wife has become one such addiction, one which creeps slowly behind your back, and then before you realize, you are locked for eternity. Over last few days my wife has decided to grant some freedom to me, and explore her own in her parents place for a couple of weeks. Within hours of her departure I realized the small addictions which I have got myself into, unknowingly [I swear ;)].
When I am sleepy, and there is no chatter around, or her hair poking my nose as she curls up besides me, makes me wonder how was I ever sleeping before her.
When I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes and not get sleep for a while, instinctively my hands search for hers to hold.
There is no fun taking a shower, without having anyone to prevent me going first.
My lunch boxes are missing that extra something that goes over and above the usual stuff, the salads, the pickles, chocolates, and fruits, how the hell did I get addicted to snack boxes she packs for me.
As soon as I get into my evening ride home, the phone automatically dials her, asking what time is she coming home, I still call her, out of practice and wonder, shouldn’t I be having all the real fun which I am supposed to.
I seem to have got addicted to listening to the long list of complaints about work, traffic, how tired she is, how her back hurts. Without my evening dose of complaints from her, my problems seem to worry me, more than hers.
The evening calls from work, is no fun, with no one checking, when they are going to end, or is it possible for me to mute them and go for dinner.
Again as I check my work emails late in the night, I kind of turn back to see no one in the bed scolding me for working late at night.
There are many things I have gotten addicted to over course of time, but nothing as strong as the warm breath of my wife on my neck.