Hello. My name is Traci and I’m an addict.

I realized my “problem” when I attempted to scarf down a frozen burrito this morning too-soon out of the microwave. The result: My tongue was charred beyond recognition. It’s this little black lump-like thing, now. Ouch. Let this be a lesson to you all: Addiction = BAD.

Naturally it didn’t stop me from continuing to eat the burrito via the hot-mouth dance: Alternating too-hot food (placed in the mouth so that the tongue *barely* touches it) with a flood of cool drink. Progress in the following manner: chew, flood, chew, flood, chew—until the coarsely masticated food is no longer scalding. Swallow; repeat. It’s not at all enjoyable, though I believe it does fit Einstein’s definition of insanity: “…doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” (“The food will get cooler! It will!! D’Oh!”)

My addiction of late is not hot food, per se, but the ambrosia that is the frozen burrito (which is eaten hot). It’s like the gods put their heads together and decided that one day, there would be a food that is both chewy and hot, the perfect texture and taste and would simultaneously encourage the human gullet to exude wood-chipper-like behavior. (Thank you, Dr. Phil, for the analogy.)

Our vending machines here at work are RIFE with frozen burritos. Abounding. Overflowing. Teeming with the suckers. And, YES, I am aware that I can buy a sack of ten for $2 at FoodMax, but it’s my ADDICTION that keeps me buying them here at work for $1 each.

Honestly: I don’t want ten burritos loitering in my humble abode —I’m adult enough to admit how that would be disastrous. I mean, I’d have to keep the sack at home and do you have any CLUE how many CHILDREN I have? SCADS and SCADS of children. My house is practically CRAWLING with them. Those Hoovers would scarf down my precious burritos inside of 30 seconds, and then where would I be??

(SIDE NOTE: What is it with kids and the constant EATING, eating, always EATING? And then the GROWING? It’s like some vicious, never ending, amazingly expensive cycle. Alas, I digress.)

And so yes, dear reader, it is to you (and to those that follow me on Twitter) that I profess my love for, and shameful addiction to, the frozen burrito. It has almost reached caffeine-sized proportions. NOTE I said ALMOST.

I therefore take the first step, and admit herein: I am powerless to the frozen burrito.

I also acknowledge that there is a power above myself that could restore my sanity.

This power is called Costco. I think I can get an ice chest for like $15 and keep the suckers at work.

Problem solved.

Addiction? What addiction?