My friend who is an addict told me what it feels like to be on heroin. I have now found my own version of heroin. It’s these tiny dried out shrimp. People say they cook them but I could never delay the actual eating of them long enough to cook.
Please don’t point out that they are very unhealthy. I’m aware. But they make me very happy. I’m telling myself that they are super healthy compared to heroin.
I have no idea why I find these ugly, smelly, prickly little critters so irresistible. They stink so bad that people who come to the house ask if something has died in here. Whenever I open the package, Klara says, “Poopy mamma? Mamma basroom!” But they make me haaaaappy.