Alcoholics have support groups to help them cope with their addiction.

Same for those who abuse drugs and those who gamble impulsively. A member of my family belongs to a widows/widowers group that offers friendship and fellowship to those who’ve lost spouses.

Is there anything for those who are addicted to cell phones?

Probably not. I think I need counseling, however.

I did something I usually don’t do: I left my cell phone at home this afternoon while I worked at one of my four part-time jobs.

It usually is clipped to my belt. I reach for it constantly. I don’t pull it out and look at it all day long, although I spend my share of time looking at news apps and monitor the traffic on my blog, High Plains Blogger.

I didn’t have it all day. I was going nuts.

My closest friends and family members know about my love-hate relationship with cell phones. I hate hearing them go off, I hate being distracted by individuals blabbing their big mouths on cell phone conversations, and I hate seeing people talking on the thing while they’re driving their vehicles along public streets; we have a law against that in Amarillo, you know.

My first cell phone was of the flip variety. It was small. It didn’t work too well. My wife and I had identical phones. Hers didn’t work well, either.

I had declared my intention to be the last man on Earth with a cell phone. I declared victory in that quest some years back, then got the phone.

We eventually graduated, thanks to some cajoling from one of our sons, to a “smart phone.” It’s a fancy little gizmo. I use only a fraction of the apps on it. For all I know, I could launch a rocket to Mars with the thing.

I use my smart phone to make and receive phone calls, text messages (to which I usually respond in no more than six words), check the weather app, check a couple of the news apps and — of course — look at my blog traffic.

But today, I went all day without doing any of that. I went into a form of cell phone withdrawal about halfway through my work shift. I didn’t break out into cold sweat, or start shaking, or develop a craving for chocolate. As the day wore on, I realized more and more how much I missed the thing. It’s become like a friend.

But …

Enough, already!

I’m prepared to go through an intervention.

OK, I’ll start: My name is John and I am a cell phone-holic.