My name is Mollie and I am a word addict. It is a daily habit, I’m afraid. I read everything in front of me; the backs of cereal boxes, the sides of aerial sprays, the contents of tins, newspapers, and catalogues. I love catalogues. I collect words; big words, small words, unusual words, outdated words, even foreign words. I play word games; Scrabble, Words With Friends, cross words, scrambled words, Balderdash, Lexulous, and any other word game that comes into my range of vision. I love the look of words, the shape of words and the sound of words. A blank sheet of paper is exciting. I could cover that page with words, in different patterns, in different forms of poetry or prose, even in different colours of ink. I get excited when I visit someone who has magnetic words to make poetry on their refrigerator. I spend hours working with words, typing them out, writing them down, turning them around. I’m a word manipulator. I mainline dictionaries and the thesaurus. I love the phone book and the world atlas because of the names of people and places. It’s an incurable habit.
I would love to say that my addiction only affects me. Unfortunately, this is not so. My addiction causes me to delay meals, neglect laundry, ignore dust bunnies, and burn baking. It is a terrible predicament but, I’m incorrigible and unrepentant. When it comes to words, I am totally uninterested in a cure.
penpaletteheart 