(note: I’m filing this under CONNECT in our Verge taxonomy … under the category “hazards of connecting in the information age.” Enjoy.)?

Normally I love Mondays. While other people approach the beginning of the week with dread and trepidation, I see Monday morning as an eternal fountain of self-renewal, full of promise and possibility. Monday is the opportunity to baptize oneself of the sins from work weeks past and to start anew.?

Not today, though. Today I wake with a massive email hangover. Over the last twenty four hoursI’ve been on an email binge the likes of which will surely require Google to add another herd to its server farm. It started innocently enough, a typically lazy afternoon on the couch. Figuring I’d use the pre-game show as a chance to catch up on some correspondence, I fire up the laptop. In less than an hour, I’ve sent a colleague a number of emails. Five, to be exact. Well, actually, six:

“Do you know Greg W., CEO of xxx?”

“Have you read “The Best of Technology Writing?”

“Do you have Claudia’s email?”

“Do you know the date of next year’s (insert name of random technology conference here)?”

“Do you remember us talking about a pollution-eating metal thing that goes on the outside of buildings? I remember seeing the picture; it’s sort of bronze and looks like a small sculpture or a metal “screen” that would attach to a fa?ade. Do you by chance have any idea what I’m talking aboutI can’t find the website and it’s driving me crazy….”

After the fifthmessage it occurs to me that sending several one-off questions as separate emails is an extremely inefficient use of bandwidth. And despite Chris Anderson’s assertion that we live in an economy of abundance where bits are as free as air, my guilt over the digital divide finally overwhelms me (how can I use so much bandwidth when others have so little??). I decide that going forward I will put all of my random questions to said colleague into a single comprehensive (perhaps numerically organized) message. And because I’m a compulsive list-maker, I create a draft email full of questions (which I intend to flesh out later) that reads something like this:

Why isn’t tif carbon neutral?

Lots of MAWGs…

Semapedia??

… and then I promptly hit “send”. Aaaarrrggghhhhh! Mortified, I stare at the screen in horror, realizing that seconds from now my colleague will read this last message and come to the rather obvious conclusion that a) my caffeine addiction has reached epic proportions and b) I’ve now started to cyber-stalk him. My emails, in addition to pouring in at a rate of one every twelve minutes, have now taken on a deranged, psychotic tone, surely the fragmented ramblings of a serial-something in the making.?

But here’s the thing. I wish I could say that this particular colleague was the sole victim of my email assault, but sadly that’s not the case. I sent 114 emails yesterday. On a SUNDAY.

Clearly I have no self-control. Clearly I have an attention span equivalent to that of a five year old. Clearly I’m using email in a desperate attempt fill some unmet emotional need. Clearly, I have issues.

It occurs to me that in my email rampage I have revealed certain carefully hidden personality traits, which is as disconcerting to me as the impending delivery of the restraining order that I’m sure is on its way. In short, my uninhibited use of cheap processing power and a DSL line is now threatening the very social relationships I sought to enrich. On the one hand, in the case of said colleague, I haven’t known him long, so he could likely escape any future contact with me with the help of a sophisticated spam filter and a few well-timed “Out of the Office - Forever” replies. On the other hand, he doesn’t know me well enough to understand that (despite all evidence to the contrary) beneath the veneer of a crazed email lunatic I both enjoy and am actually semi-proficient at alternative means of communication. Such as talking, for example.

As the haze of my email hangover begins to subside, I promise myself that I will change. In an effort to regain some measure of self-control (my self-esteem is way past saving at this point), I resolve to engage in an email blackout. A diet, if you will. I will hydrate. I will share the bits and bytes of the world with those who are less fortunate than me. Along with eggnog and macaroons, during this holiday season I will limit my consumption to seventy-five (ok, eighty) emails a day.?

Happy Holidays.