A Typical Day In the Life of a (Possibly) Attention Deficit Disordered Adult: A Discombobulated Spirit Muses On Her Life

Posted: August 10, 2009 in 1
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I awaken and walk into the kitchen. I stop, because I can’t remember why I walked into the kitchen and I admonish myself for forgetting AGAIN why I do anything at all when my attention span is so small it can’t even be measured.

Fine, I say to myself, I’ll show you (me) – I’m not leaving until I remember why I came in here. There must have been a reason, after all. I fold my arms across my chest and wait. And wait.

Finally I give up, return to my bedroom to retrieve my cell phone but suddenly remember why I wanted to go into the kitchen in the first place, so I turn around and race back into the kitchen lest I forget again.

Today is garbage day. I remembered!

As I run to grab the garbage, I notice a piece of lint on the floor (that’s all it takes to discombobulate me). As I bend down to pick it up, I notice under the counter an envelope that mysteriously fell off the counter in the middle of the night.

I wonder if I have a poltergeist. Friends tell me I emit an energy that is strangely disturbing – paranormal happenings in my home require no explanation for people who know me.

The envelope on the floor – an obvious sign that God HIMSELF (or HERSELF) didn’t want me to forget this most crucial evidence of fowl play, demands immediate attention. I must fill out the form and have it notarized so that I can retrieve money from my debit account because some illegal company stole it from me. I thank God for throwing the envelope on the floor so that I will notice it.

After filling out the form correctly, I grab the papers and the envelope – along with the garbage – and head out to the street where I drop the garbage at the curb. Turning around I head toward my car but realize I left my keys on the counter.

After several failed attempts to leave my driveway, I finally arrive at the notary’s office, jump out of my car and realize I can’t find the paperwork. I rip my car apart and decide to call work to let them know I will be late. However, the cell phone is still sitting on a dresser in my bedroom and my keys have fallen under the car in a torrential thunderstorm while the envelope holding my valuable information sits quietly next to my garbage smiling at the garbage collector who unwittingly threw it into his truck.

I have become a softer and more palatable version of Sisyphus, that mythical figure who must repeat his actions again and again and again. Now I’ll have to call the bank, have them resend the materials, and go through the process all over again. I wonder – did Sisyphus suffer from ADD? Because maybe the reason he had to carry the boulder again and again and again was due to the fact that he kept forgetting to stabilize it.

The only other possible explanation for consistently weird occurrences – which I ponder with amusement and interest – appears in this article: Am I a Poltergeist or a Halloween Freak Show? God’s Favorite Little Soap Opera.

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