Spam - not just meat in Hawaii

I have an email account with Yahoo! (picture dudes from Ricola commercial blowing their horns). Supposedly, Yahoo! has a filter for spam. But, upon opening my email account, I am updated about a White House meeting; receive an urgent notification about something that requires my SSN, birth date, waist size, and my first born; congratulated on winning $1000; told I can find the love of my life (apparently my current husband isn’t cutting it); am questioned about my 5-year-old being delayed or okay by someone who has never met my 5-year-old; and am told about the spiraling violence in Darfur.
This doesn’t even begin to describe the news I actually signed up to hear, like the latest Jennings Sandal (apparently it’s so sensational it needs to be capitalized) from Michael Kors, 25% off at MLB.com (I wonder if that includes 25% off A-Rod), 30% off at Ann Taylor, 40% off at the Gap, and a big sale and new items from Tommy Bahama. Not to mention all of those Facebook updates. Oh, and occasionally an actual email from an actual friend.
I’m not sure exactly what this tells me about my life. Do I shop too much? (Maybe, but it’s all relative.) Do I need more friends who email? (Probably.)
I’ve had this account since I left college umpteen years ago (we won’t discuss timelines here, it’s the general principle of the thing). So, giving it up might be hard. I hate it when I have to change someone’s email address in my contact list. And, what happens to said list? Does it go away, can you take it with you? Does it transfer like a telephone number?
What I do know is that 1. If Yahoo!’s spam filter actually works, I don’t even want to know what it’s filtering, and 2. How am I ever going to get that novel written when I have to read about all of this stuff and then subsequently write about it?
You might think I’m allowing it to rule my life instead of me ruling my time. You might think that I’m just procrastinating about writing that novel. This is where I would tell you that You can go take a flying leap, off a high bridge. I’m not procrastinating. What I’m doing is babbling. So I think I’ll stop.