Addicted to Seed Packets

So, I admit it, I have a problem. I love seeds. And more importantly, I LOVE the packets. Doesn't matter what kind, the sight of a rack of seed packets in a store will set my heart to racing like Manolo Blahnik shoes did for Carrie in SATC. I do have to admit that the no-frills packets of white paper with black or green lettering doesn't quite do to me the same thing as the shiny bad-for-the-environment glossy paper ones.
When I spot the rack, with the packs of glittering envelopes holding their seedy cargo, my steps quicken. When I get to the rack, I stand and look at all the pictures of the plants on the fronts like a kid confronted with Toys R Us for the first time, a gaze of delight and wonder. My mind races with thoughts of what those plants would look like in my garden, how the flowers would smell and feel, how the veggies would taste. I pick up a packet of something I've never grown before, checking to see if I have the right growing conditions. Then my eyes wander to the next packet, and the next, and then to another rack, and before I realize it, I'm clutching a double handful of slippery seed packets in my sweaty hands. While I might put one or two back, I usually end up taking the whole batch home. Even at the grocery store I'll pick up a couple of the more common seeds, like lettuce or spinach.
My husband doesn't say a thing about my addiction, since he's ultimately reaping the benefit of good food. My seed collection has grown to barely fitting inside a shoe box tub. So I'm trying to kick the habit, and not buy any seeds until what I've got is used up. Oh, the agony! I'll have to avoid the garden center at Lowe's, where the seeds beckon, calling my name, begging for me to take them home. Well, maybe just a couple...