I fear I suffer from some form of ADD. Highly functioning ADD. Nonetheless, ADD. On any given day… thoughts race through my brain.
Workout thirty minutes. No, forty. No thirty – should get to work early today. Thirty-five then. What should I take for lunch? Lunch! Need to plan class lesson over lunch. Do I have gas? Ha ha. Not that kind. Fuel. Petro. Make sure Cole hasn’t lost hat and gloves to avoid hyperthermia in case of car trouble. Does he have gas? Ha ha. Not that kind. Fuel. Petro. Tell Doug funny story about Joan at work. Inadvertently calling a bigwig her hubby’s pet name. Still makes me giggle. Oh goodness, I need to reschedule that chair delivery. And text Ann about soccer. We’re out of Vitamin D. Flu is bad. People dead. Pray. Send approved doctor list to Alex. Board meeting next week! Hair is gray. Yuck. Tell Mom about Cold Mountain. Movie slays book. Well. Jude Law. There's that. Wonder if Doug will make meatloaf tonight. When was the last time I pooped? Cole needs a job. Talk to Dad. January's half over! I still don’t have budget finalized! God, my shoes are outdated. Shopping trip in order. Haven’t seen Amy in a while. I’m never gonna finish this John Grisham novel. Do I even care about these characters? Apparently, I do. Speaking of books … need to finish a manuscript. Ten years in the making. Sigh. I wonder if Myrtle Beach is nice. I don’t have time to play piano for Mass. I can’t believe Dolores Riordan is dead. Remember when I wanted to be a rock star? It’s been three days! Three days since I pooped. Having trouble breathing. When’s the last time I did yoga? Rihanna is now the spokesperson for Puma. Wonder if she works out for thirty or forty minutes…
Bam! Something hurtles me back into reality – like Cole hurting his back. All of these random thoughts are replaced with something much more focused.
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| My elixir, entertaining me amidst nature & trains. |
Is it broke again? How bad is his pain? How much ibuprofen should I give him? Will he play soccer again? Will he have to live with this for the rest of his life? Should we tell him to be tougher? Play through it? Or are we being crazy soccer parents too worried about his playing time? What if the cupping doesn’t help this time? I wonder if Amazon sells those cups…
It goes on. And on. My husband is a saint for living with my neurosis. He’s my elixir, really. If it weren’t for him, I probably wouldn’t realize that these thoughts will be replaced by some other urgent thoughts by tomorrow. If it weren’t for him, I’d forget that there’s always a beer in the fridge to mute that anxious, chatty Kathy living inside me. If it weren’t for him, I might never actually sit down and watch something great, like The Planet Earth – which reminds me that the world is much, much bigger than me and my shallow anxiety.
So, for all of you with brains on fire, I have a New Year’s proposal for you: Identify your own elixir. And do it quickly. No elixir you say? Then just watch The Planet Earth. And try your best to poop.
