This coupon thing is out of control.

Americans have become obsessed with Extreme Couponing. Ladies lose it over exclusions at department store registers. People are stockpiling on newspaper fliers – whether via purchase or dumpster diving.

I used to be the girl everyone made fun of – the dork who is obviously “slightly” obsessed. What used to be held together with a paperclip now hardly fits into the bulging expanding file I haul everywhere. Evening plans and daily diet are heavily dictated by coupons. All in all, I’m the opposite of the extreme couponer. I spend money on items I don’t need to get the “coupon high”… the feeling after saving a ton using coupons you’ve lugged around for two months. It’s comparable to winning the lottery, only you know what you’re going to win. It’s the euphoria after reading the magical phrase on the bottom of your receipt: “You Saved $___”.

There’s only one problem. Since I love coupons so much, I clip nearly every coupon I see, with the exception of Depends and Pampers. The problem is, once clipped, I have a certain level of commitment to using it – even if that means handing it off to a pal.

Yes, committed to coupons.

My name is Laura and I’m a coupon addict.

I know what you’re thinking: Just throw them away, you freak! And you might be right.

So I vow to limit my coupon usage until after I use up the eight body washes, 16 toothbrushes, 12 sticks of deodorant and the stash of period supplies to last past menopause.

Sifting through the coupons, I dedicate myself to tossing ones I don’t need. But as my arm hovers over the trash, a firm grip on the coupon remains. Scenarios run through my head. Situations where I might need it. You know, like a sudden shortage of hygiene items in the future where I can be the hero and supply my entire block with their toiletry needs.

Maybe a friend could use it, I think, resorting to my last reason to keep the clipping. After all, watching a friend purchase full priced item makes me ill, not to mention frustrated and irritable.

I neatly tuck the coupon back in the folder.

And so, 15 minutes later, after paging through every coupon in my possession, efforts to slim the coupon stack instead results in an intense desire to go shopping strictly in efforts to use a ridiculous amount of coupons, hence the surplus of stuff “I’ll eventually use.”

Hopefully I still like Oil of Olay when I’m 80.

I can just imagine my future grandchildren complaining about Grandma’s yearly Christmas gifts: antique bottles of body wash and old-school toothbrushes.

Shootin’the Wit is a column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.