I gasped walking through the parking lot into work today.
If you had been next to me, you would have thought that I locked myself out of my car, or left a firey pot on the stove at home. You know, something relatively important that warrented stopping in midstride and gasping, “Oh NO!”
My hand was in my right pocket, desperately feeling around. It was empty. I had forgotten my chapstick.
I am addicted to chapstick. My most favorite pair of jeans that I’ve ever owned have been retired because there was a chapstick hole worn through the right thigh. Over the course of time, the denim was worn down and frayed by the material being pulled taught over a chapstick tube in my right pocket. They’d still be in my jeans rotation if only the hole wasn’t so embarrasingly messy looking. Also, I couldn’t explain the hole in any other way — it was clearly my version of the man-butt-pocket-wallet indentation.
Back to this morning. My panic was short lived by the comforting realization that I had a chapstick in my bag as well as an extra at my work desk. I came prepared. These days happen about once a year and when they do, I’m more prepared than a Boy Scout on a nature hike.
The addiction took hold when I was a teenager and I’ve had a tube in my pocket every single day of my life for at least the last 15 years. And if the pants I’m wearing have no pockets, there’s a tube stashed somewhere near me, in some clever way.
Currently I’m on the couch in my apartment. From here I can see 5 tubes of various types of chapstick. I’d list them, but you probably don’t care what they are. Just thought I’d point out the extent of my fascination with waxy lip coatings.
It’s a cheap addiction. I support it with a few dollars per month, so I don’t intend on breaking it any time soon. Considering other addictions, I could have done a lot worse. Now, the trick will be keeping you all from pranking me by hiding them all from me…