I am searching for a support group or a twelve step program that serves adult beverages. So far, I’m out of luck.
I have been in denial for several weeks now. When I began searching on Amazon for a dentist, I knew it was time to seek help.
It began innocently enough with a Prime membership. That’s how they lure you in. Watching movies released after the cold war is an improvement over most streaming services. Then I graduated to ordering books.
I began to wonder if my investment in the membership was a waste of money until my coffeemaker bit the dust. Naturally, it died the day it was fifty degrees below zero in Dallas and I had no choice. Expedited shipping is a bargain if you consider the cost of gas and factor in skating on ice to get to the car.
I was hooked. The coffee maker on Amazon was the beginning of my downward spiral into addiction.
Even weird whatchamacallits that defy a name can be purchased there. I no longer have to wander around Home Depot, eyes glazed over, searching for a victim to help me find a part that has no name.
What an innocent I once was. I actually believed if I went shopping in my sweats and huge sunglasses, I was incognito. My friends would not see me in my worst grunge. Amazon doesn’t care what you are wearing; clothes are optional. It is shopping nirvana.
I think Amazon should post a warning, not to indulge in big folks beverages while shopping.
Otherwise, you could suffer a nasty shock to find parrot food instead of pet food on your doorstep.
Once I was hooked, Amazon reeled me in by offering online grocery shopping and delivery. Their software must be very intuitive to detect how much I despise going to the supermarket. They didn’t stop there; they will actually deliver my favorite Tex-Mex to the front door provided I can waddle there.
I would not face reality when the Amazon delivery person asked me to be his child’s legal guardian.
I was in denial when I began taking the Amazon boxes to the dumpster at midnight so the neighbors wouldn’t see.
When our cat Sybil started pacing the door waiting for her delivery of cat food, I knew I had to confront my demons.
It won’t be long before Amazon is a verb, like “Google it”. I’m checking to see if they offer liquor store delivery.
PS: Amazon did not pay me one red cent to write this, but they should.
Categories: Biased, Unbalanced and Politically Incorrect
I am a lifelong Southerner, short story author, and essayist. Home is Dallas, Texas.
My essays have appeared in Flash Fiction Magazine, The Dead Mule School of Southern Writing.