Oreos and Microchips

Yesterday afternoon, sometime after I'd consumed my millionth Oreo, I realized I might be a tad depressed. Not really sure why; my life doesn't leave me much time for self-reflection. Perhaps I'm depressed because I'm avoiding writing, though the overwhelming nature of life right now means it doesn't feel like avoidance at all. It feels like survival, and I don't see that changing. I keep waiting for some extreme sense of drivenness to take over. Regardless, yesterday I began thinking that perhaps I could be implanted with a microchip and when I go into the store to buy Oreos, I would be unable to complete the transaction. Perhaps they'd scan my hand and the check-out person would say with disdain, "Sorry, you're not allowed to buy Oreos," and she'd quicky snatch them away. Not much of a plan, but when depression is setting in and self-control is lacking, it seems potentially helpful.