Why didn't anyone warn me that shortbread was a bad idea?

I've been shoving it in my mouth non-stop since it came out of the oven on Monday. (Ok, I waited for it to be cool enough to cut.) I really don't understand. Shortbread has never been my thing. I've never made it before, it's the last cookie I turn to in a cookie assortment, I've certainly never paid money for a piece of it and yet, for some reason, I am now turning up my nose at the tub of fudge sitting next to it in favor of these tiny squares of crumbly, buttery sweetness. I'm completely addicted. I'm eating it for breakfast right now. It's almost as if the demerara sugar I sprinkled on top was secretly replaced with small rocks of honey-colored crack at some point when I wasn't looking. (And if that is the case thank god the sentencing guidelines have finally been lowered, because I have sent this stuff THROUGH THE MAIL people and I'd prefer my stint in a federal prison be as brief as possible thankyouverymuch.)