And whose fault was it that I was so often exposed to this stuff? Mine, all mine. I was the one clicking into it when I was procrastinating on work or (bane of those who work at home) needed some contact with the outside world. Pathetic.
So I announced a Facebook fast. Kick the click. I would not get into it at all to share, like or even lurk. I reasoned that I would save some time that I'd been wasting, and maybe a feeling of good will toward humanity would replace the Grinch in me.
It wasn't an easy diet. I'd always known that when you work at a computer the best break is to lift the eyes from the screen and do something physical, but there was a strong temptation to balance an hour of fact-checking or writing with a few minutes of grandkid photos and viral videos.
And there was cheating. Not long after I started the fast, my friend Lorraine slipped me a few "potato chips": She showed me, on her I-Phone, the comments on my I'm-outta-here post. Then a few days later, I did a quick lurk, being sure not to Like or Comment so that no one would see those guilty FB calories.
Even so, I did fairly well in staying away from the FB time suck, and I didn't really miss much. This morning I returned for a survey and found, figuratively speaking, that no one had offered a wild mushroom omelet or coconut cream pie. I feel virtuous in avoiding all those Twinkies and PBRs.
Don't get me wrong. There are good things about Facebook. I enjoy friends' photos and updates about their activities; some of the shared videos and sayings are hilarious; and some political views can be thought-provoking even when they don't match mine. But too much FB, like too much chocolate or gin, makes one fat and stupid.
The fast is over, but the diet isn't. For my physical health, I am munching sugar snap peas instead of tortilla chips as I write this. For my mental health, I'll be keeping my Facebooking to once a day.