Some people have a pot problem...

Mine is a pottery problem. I simply can't be helped. It seems there are no 12 step programs for pottery addicts, and even if there were, I would have to say no, no, no.

I went to an artsy-craftsy festival the other day with my trusty sidekick Rhonda. As I am newly mortgaged, I begged, pleaded with her. "Under no circumstances am I allowed to buy any pottery. No matter how perfect it is, nor how cleverly I may justify it, you must restrain me. Even if I cry."

Instead, not only does she watch me make a b-line for a favourite potter, she pulls out dishes and bowls and says "oooh, this one is perfect!" As she dangles them in front of me in my weakened state, I start to twitch. I have an awesome enabler friend.

I scored four little bags of pottery, and have been blissful ever since.