If we are all being truthful...

We all have addictions.

I am like that old, homeless man. Skin weathered by the sun; tattered, tan, corduroy sport coat, covered with stains from the alleys in which I have slept. Worn jeans, frayed at the bottom. White canvas tennis shoes picked up at a garage sale for 10 cents. A half size too small, but sufficient none-the-less. The stubble on my face is speckled with white and my hair wisps in whatever direction the wind blows. Oblivious to the rest of the world, my sole purpose in life is to shuffle my feet along the sidewalk, pushing my rusty old shopping cart (squeaky wheel and all) from trash can to trash can, dumpster to dumpster, searching for that one thing that feeds my addiction. Boones Apple Wine, Strawberry Schnapps, Jack... it matters not. When I find it... the empty bottle brings such joy and anticipation to my heart... as my hand unsteadily, but with the precision of a surgeon, raises the bottle to my mouth. I press the opening of the bottle flat on my tongue and I slap the bottom of the bottle with vigor as I beg... plead for that last drop to travel quickly down the neck of the bottle to touch my tongue and envelope my taste buds. Yes my friends I am an addict. And like all other addicts, I love my addiction.

My name is Ben, and I am addicted to my snooze button.

Every morning, I reach out and slap the button that I love with every part of my being... as I eagerly soak up nine more minutes of bliss. I feed my addiction purposely. Every evening I make sure that I set my alarm for 5:30 am... and every morning when that rhythmic beeping breaks the silence of the morning... I do not experience the dread that most people do, but I greet this sound with excitement and enthusiasm knowing that I have (at least) nine more minutes of sleep. It is like I am at the gates of heaven with the anticipation of what is to come...

I love the man or woman who invented the snooze button. My favorite number is nine. I don’t know why this is my favorite number. It’s certainly not because the snooze length is nine minutes. I only made this correlation between my favorite number and the nine wonderful minutes of extra sleep each time I press that beautiful button just recently. But for some reason, whoever created the snooze button chose nine minutes. Mere coincidence I think not; I truly believe it was Divine Providence. One thing is for sure; the fact that the snooze length is nine minutes makes me love my snooze button all the more.

Now pressing the button one time each morning does not an addiction make. I am both ashamed and proud to admit that on average I press the button no less than 8 times. 5:30... 5:39... 5:48... 5:57... 6:06...6:15...6:24... 6:33...6:42... What about Sydney you ask? She is the best. She has never commented on my addiction in an adversarial way. Through her deep sleep in the morning she encourages me to feed my addiction, knowing that she does not hear it. Ahhh... the joy of a woman so perfect, who sleeps so soundly in the morning, that I can revel, guilt free, in my addiction each morning. I do realize that it will ruin me someday... However, I simply.just.don’t.care. Fired from work because I hit the snooze button one too many times? It’s worth the risk. Forget the nine step recovery system, I don’t want it. I would be admitted to the rehab clinic too many times to count. This addiction has such a bond over me that I can not fathom what it would take to break these chains.

In short, I will not give up this addiction I love so much.

I can’t wait until tomorrow morning when I can feed my addiction again.