How can you tell when a hobby becomes an obsession?
Is it when thoughts begin to revolve around the newfound love to the exclusion of all others? (Dudes, I can’t stop thinking about pie. Which should I make next: blueberry with lemon-zested crust, or apple cinnamon with a gingerbread-spiced crust? This is the stuff that keeps me up at night.)
Is it when the time between hits becomes shorter and shorter out of necessity, as the cravings increase in strength? (First pie: Friday evening. Second pie: Monday evening. Third pie: Wednesday evening. Fourth pie: Wednesday evening, one hour later.)
Is it when the coveted objects seem to appear everywhere, as the face of an absent beloved? (See below. Am I the only one who thinks this dishcloth looks like berries? Or apples and rhubarb?)
Maybe it’s when all of the above apply. So, it seems I’m hooked.