Potholes on the information highway

[shoebox_dw]

I recently discovered I have remote access to my work email. Meaning I can check it here at home, anytime.

Let me repeat that: I can check it here at home. This is bad. This is very bad, because I am a compulsive Checker of Things. The instant I make what I suspect is a particularly chuffy post I spend the next hour on Statcounter, refreshing madly to see if anyone's noticed it yet. I slip checks of my TVTropes watchlist between sales report results.
And now I have insta-checkable work email. While I admit the novelty of poring over vendor issues at my own pace and place, where NONE OF THEM CAN GET AT ME HA HA HA, isn't liable to fade soon...I dread the day I start feeling the guilt. As in 'Y'know, you really should review those ex-factory dates, you never got a chance to do it today,' or 'It never hurts to check and see if you've missed any urgent marketing deadlines!' If I ever announce that I've decided to renounce the Internet and go do good works amongst the poor or something,you will know the reason why.

Apropos of all this, I am hoping that I have convinced spilleta42's stalker - who gifted me with a visit from the 36-Point Red Font Fairy the other night - that my mighty Check-Fu means I am a lousy spamming prospect. Trust me, kiddo: I can find & delete 'em just as fast as you can post 'em. Besides which I have younger sisters, which means I can recognise immature cattiness at forty paces, minimum.

About the only thing you've accomplished is to deepen my sympathy for your target. Being the victim of this kind of smear campaign is bad enough; that it's driven by this kind of obsessive malice must be hellish.