I'm addicted to tobacco.  Helplessly and hopelessly addicted.  No end in sight and I'm not even ashamed.

A morning coffee run with the wife was slyly detoured to the local tobacconist and, oh gee, I just happened to have my 2nd guitar and Diddley Bow with me.  How did they get in the car?

As I was stacking up boxes to buy from the cart in front of the store, my wife says "Really?  10 boxes today?"  I settled for 6.  I'm trying to cut down.  Really, I quit at the end of every day.

Stepping inside the shop with boxes and instruments in hand, I was greeted by a smiling shop employee.  I set down my new acquisitions and a shop customer asked me to play a little bit on the guitar.  A little slow blues and some Bad To The Bone got the expected result and inquiries about construction, a little history, etc.  What an awesome start to a sunny Friday morning.

As planned, I offered my Diddley Bow for the shop to keep and display.  I was asked to sign the back and leave my contact info for the shop owner.  I'm not really interested in building many guitars, but I would like to have some return so I can buy tuning machines and strings without dipping into what my wife lets me keep from the paycheck.

So, yeah, back to the point.  I'm addicted.  Right now, I have no less than 20 cigar boxes of various sizes and construction.  I've built two guitars and two Diddley bows with another guitar in progress.  I play my 3-string guitar intermittently throughout the mornings and evenings when I'm home, even strumming a little while cooking the family dinner.  I keep a browser tab open to CBN almost all day at the office.  News of Seasick Steve on XM Underground Garage makes me want to pull the car over and listen.  I'm helplessly and hopelessly addicted.

There oughta be a warning posted on the boxes.