It was a normal winter day, cold and kind of gray outside, but it didn't make much of a difference, because I was in a hermetically sealed windowless office. My computer, which I believe was from 1999 (seriously, it had a tower. how long has it been since computers had towers??), and almost everyone was gone on holiday vacation. I was working in the U.S. for the French government, so while they all jetted back across the Atlantic, I stayed in Atlanta, where is was always slightly too warm to feel like it was really Christmas time.
My friend and I had developed a ritual where we would hang out and drink a six pack of beer, eat frozen pizza, and shoot the shit while we watched intervention. Sometimes we would watch 3-4 episodes in one sitting, adding our own commentary to the narrator's while we cracked open another beer and smoked cigarettes out the window.
Something about watching others' lives in complete shambles made us feel better about our lives only being in shards. We could act like total carefree dummies while we watched other people be bigger ones.
It was around this time when I caught myself sitting in my office, with next to no work to do, watching intervention on my ancient computer.
I texted my friend to tell her what I was doing and she reacted as any normal friend should:
"Oh my god Brittany, what are you doing? You're addicted to intervention. We are going to have to have an intervention intervention!"
The sudden self-realization was obvious, and I had to reform. If I were ever going to get off the couch in time for spring, I had to get it together. And I did.
I'm not going to lie and say I stopped right then and there. Sometimes I relapse and catch an episode here and there, but I keep it under control. Plus, I've sort of switched over to hoarders. It makes me feel better about the clothes on my floor.
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