It's 8:30 a.m. I'm in class at my job. I'm sipping a hot coffee, no cream. An 8 year old just pointed to a clump of weave under my chair. It's not mine. I laugh. Then I realize...I have no idea how I got here. No recollection of the coffee purchase. I never saw the weave. "Not again." While everyone is running around this building consumed with fear over "the swine flu", I just want to know who dressed me and drove me to work.
Was I on auto-pilot and forgot to notice everything around me, (I swear I wasn't flying that plane) or do I have the worst case of A.D.D. ever?
Last week I fell asleep standing up. I was in line waiting to pay for a Red Bull. The clerk was texting with her press-ons and making a lot of hand gestures. Her name tag said PRECIOUS so I knew it would be a while. I went off to another place and the daydreaming began. By the time I was done bathing in buttermilk, Santa left and the clerk snapped, "Huh-lowwww!" all loud and what not. Ya, like it was MY fault.
One time I took an on-line A.D.D. test. You know the ones where if you answer YES to seven out of ten questions you obviously have A.D.D. I had all ten checked. Then I made a burger. Whatever.
I read somewhere that the aluminum in deodorants may be linked to Alzheimer's. Since then I've made the switch to aluminum-free deodorants. So far it hasn't helped much with my short-term memory, but I do smell on the short side of shank. (sorry LB)
So I have this new "fancy" touch phone, and all though I've had it for a few weeks I still don't know how to use it for anything other than Facebook. It would be likely that I could make a call if I could sit long enough to read a direction. I prefer to be read to. It's quite endearing I've been told. I told myself that. I'm still waiting for my mom to talk me through setting up my Ikea kitchen.
Back to my original thought... I don't always mind showing up in odd places. In fact, I've met a few charming characters on my way to and fro' the gutter. It's just that It'd be nice to remember where I parked...
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6 comments:
Boy, Chrissy, did I have you pegged wrong.
After all, in order to diagnose yourself with ADD, that, to me, would mean you would have to care about things like personal hygiene or respecting the cashier woman who might have been dumped the morning of (hence, she wasn't feeling so PRECIOUS anymore.
Seriously, I mean, I always thought the word for "being out of touch," with reality was what you called "aloof," and, more importantly, what you'd confided in me you aspire to.
Come on, Costa. Why are you trying to play nice with all one of our readers? After all, your mother knows the truth about you anyway...
Dear Abby,
What exactly is Blythe talking about?
ha.
i go on auto pilot a lot when i'm driving. Scary but it helps with road rage.
Well Peeps, I've been sitting in front of this here computer for almost 20 years, trying to figure out how I got here.
When did I get married? Eighteen YEARS ago? Where WAS I? Who bought this keyboard with the bright yellow keys, and extra large black letters? Ya think I cannot SEE an ordinary standard k'board?
Maybe I'll go to bed tonight--maybe I'll wait until tomorrow night. Ihope that is an interesting statement to all who are reading this...how many, ya say?
Peece! Rhymes with Reece! As in Reece's Peece's
This is a great piece, Chrissy. The whole aluminum in the deodorant thing has me freaking out, too, but I can't walk myself away from the good stuff. Did the hippie stick get you the girlfriend? I need to know. Thanks.
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