I called the number on the screen- trepidatiously. I loved my addiction, but knew I had to act. What follows is some foreshadowing of what led me to make this decision.
     I had been on the quest for the perfect food, the one item that would satisfy a peculiar and obsessive craving. Many times after I had finished a meal I would wander around in the kitchen, looking in cabinets, opening and closing, opening and closing the refrigerator door, picturing in my mind afterwards what lay in there and how it could be assembled in such a way that the concoction I made would hit the spot. And many times after throwing something together I came close to satisfying that craving, but alas, no cigar. 
     Sometimes the cabinet or the refrigerator/freezer was so bare that I contemplated.....
     ....not that. I contemplated getting into my car and driving down to the closest store, or restaurant, but seeing as I live far away from such easy access to food I will do that only in extreme circumstances, and never at night. In extreme nighttime cases I will eat what is available, and feel miserable about it. 
     Having experienced this lack of a fix many times the thought came to me on numerous occasions, loathsome as it was, that I should stock up on my substance and all sorts of other foodstuffs, many times which I have acted upon, but sometimes my substance hasn't been available and the stuff I stocked up on has been as enticing as eating week-old leftovers. Let's be real- who knows what they'll be hungry for a day from now, much less a week?
   There's an old saying that goes "The difference between what I will eat and won't eat is 24 hours" and that is most times true, but in the case of my addiction it is always true. One night, desperate and alone, I called the number mentioned beforehand for their adept counsel. 

     "Addiction Assistance Hotline. How may I help you?"
    "I'm Jones'n man, really Jones'n"
    "Please, listen to me. You don't have to do it. We're here to help. What substance are you Jones'n for?"
    "It's not on your list"
    "Tell me then, what it is"
    "Almond... Poppyseed... Muffins..." said I slowly, savoring each word.
    "I understand" came the voice at the other end of the phone.
    "You do?" I gasped incredulously. "You understand?"
    "Yes. Totally"
    "Who is this that I'm speaking to? What is your name?" I queried, seeking to foster the connection, for I had been floundering with this for so long.
    "Mary"
    "Thank you, Mary. I didn't think....."
    "I had a similar addiction to yours" Mary said softly. "I can relate"
    "An addiction with what?"
    "Peanut butter chocolate chip cookies"
    "Whoa......    ....yeah.......    .....they are good, aren't they?"
    "Frightfully good" Mary said. "But I broke the chain of yearning, acquiring, consuming, feeling guilty, then yearning again"
   "How? I can't break my pattern. You'd think I'd get tired of eating these things but I never do! It can't be explained!"
    "Neither can the draw to eat- I'm not going to say the name of those cookies- let's call these kind of things 'substances'"
   "You know" I confided in Mary, "when you make up your own personal Almond Poppyseed Muffin song, it's bad"
    "That is bad" Mary replied. "I will agree. There are numerous bona fide addiction behaviors. That's just one of them"
     "What was yours, if I may ask?"
    There came a pause. "Mine" Mary said, "was never being too far from my junk. I had stashes. At home, at work...." 
    I thought I heard, but couldn't be sure, the sounds of crumbling.
    "I'm sitting in front of an Almond Poppyseed Muffin right now" I blurted. "I haven't cut it into bite size chunks yet, like I usually do. I'm just staring at it"
    Now I thought I heard the sounds of chewing. The microphone seemed to have been pulled away some, then it returned. Mary sounded muffled when she spoke this time, and I detected a bit of swallowing before she did.
    "Resist. Resist the temptation with all your might! If you can last three minutes, you can kick this! Those three minutes will turn to five, and then ten, and then....."
    Was that a drawer I heard opening?
    "....and if you can make it to an hour......"

    I distinctly heard the sounds of crinkling plastic- the kind of plastic that store-bought cookies are packaged in. 
   I decided to call Mary on it. 
   "Mary, are you eating?"
   There was a pause again, crunching sounds, swallowing, then again came that slightly muffled voice that sounded that she still had food in her mouth. 
    "Yes, a... a.... veggie wrap! You should try eating these instead......"
    "I think you're lying to me, Mary. I know what cookie eating sounds like!"
    "Okay, okay, you got me" Mary fessed. "It's been a long shift of listening to people's problems over and over. I needed a break"
    "I understand"
    "You do?"
    "Yeah. This 'addiction' moniker that some of us are saddled with really doesn't apply. I like to think that 'all things in moderation' makes more sense. It's not like I eat muffins until I pass out or anything! One a day seems to work"
   "Same here! I think that if God created chocolate and peanut butter, and people put them together, that was part of God's plan! There's no harm in indulging yourself every now and again"
  "It's not like we're shooting up heroin, or (yikes!) Fentanyl"
  "Oh for God sakes no!"
  "That's serious s___!"
  "You got that right"
  "You know what, Mary? You're all right. All right by me. You go on and have your cookies, and I'll go on singing my Almond Poppyseed Muffin song. I think that from where we're coming from with this, we can make it- together"
  "Amen, brother. Say, I got another call. Back to the grind. You take care now, you hear? 'Muffin Man'"
  "You too, uh, 'Chipmunk"
  "Ha ha. I like that. I do like to squirrel those things away!"

  Soooo glad I made that call! It's nice to know that I'm not alone in this. 

 (and I'm gonna keep on adding verses to the Almond Poppyseed Muffin song)