Once Upon a Time, I Could Multi-Task.
I’ll give you an example: Laundry. I turn the water on and pour the detergent in. Then I give it a few minutes to fill, so I can swish it around and mix it up. Is that necessary? I don’t know. But it’s what I do. The swishy is pretty much the only part I enjoy. I will swish. Meanwhile… While the water is running, I can fold the first load, or unload the dishwasher, or read a few more pages – whatever it is that I might want to do in those three or four minutes. Forty-five minutes later… I can’t tell you how many times in the last year I have washed a big ole load of nothingness. Argh!! Is this what it’s like to get older? What is happening to me? I never used to be like this. I can be thinking, the entire drive home, of something I need to do. But as soon as I pull in the driveway, that thought jumps right out of my head. Seriously, it simply disappears. I’m on to different things and I don’t think of that task again until I’m back in the car driving to work the next day. Come to think of it, I’ve been like that for a long time. Oh yeah, and I forget where I set things. I forget what my hands are doing, so I put things down to free them up to do something else. Then I have no idea what happened to what I was holding. Because it should still be there. “But I just had it in my hand…” Of course, I’ve been doing that for as long as I can remember. Okay, at work I will start one thing and then get side-tracked with two or three other things and I never get back to that first thing I was doing. It’s terrible! Hmmm…actually, I can recall being like that two jobs ago. And now I’m remembering about the broken toaster. (It didn’t pop up and you had to watch it. So we put it in a pantry. On a wooden shelf. With just enough clearance between it and another wooden shelf. Like anyone else would do.) One day I put in some bread, pushed it down, walked out of the pantry, shut the door, walked across the hall to my room, shut that door, and got on the phone. I would have burned to death if my roommate hadn’t come home early. That toast was literally on fire. The shelf above the toaster was not on fire, but it was black. And it took us forever to get the smoke out of the house. Ah, memories. Hey, but I was in my early twenties then. Whew – what a relief! I guess I was always bad at multi-tasking. . Never mind. .