(raises hand)
I'm the Divemistress, and I too am a Policeaholic...
It all started really innocently. Fairly regularly I would take out my old cassette tapes and fondle their silky shells. Every now and then I'd take out a cassette and listen to the music. The soaring thirds, the ebullient base clefs...
But pretty soon, I found myself elbowing out room from the rest of my cassette collection so I could indulge myself in *that record*. My husband would come home to find me dusting in a state of dishabille, yelping along with Stewart or Andy's lyrics at the top of my lungs. Sting's songs as well would send me into a frenzy. It got so bad I let several of my magazine subscriptions expire...I just couldn't be bothered to deal with mundane chores when there were albums to be enjoyed.
Things went along this way for quite a while, until by lucky chance I saw in a special magazine, an advertisement for a music festival called Bonnaroo. I'll spare the details of time dragging on for months at a time until I could camp out in a special spot in the outfield and wait for my hero...
OK, this is getting creepy and I'm starting to sound like a stalker. All I really meant to say is that I too am compulsively hitting 'refresh' like the rats in those experiments that only got cheese some of the time...but ain't it tantalizing torture! Here's to many more months of full-bore rock fan geekery!