Some Days

Some days I don’t know if I am coming or going, crazy that is. I would have sworn that I did this, or that, put something away or got it out, dusted something or vacuumed another thing, made that oh-so-important phone call, or order something for the furry ones. I’m glad I am not asked to swear on a bible, not with my absent mindedness.

A few times people have suggested that I make a list, and then I wouldn’t forget. One slight problem with the whole list idea: I can’t follow directions, not even my own. The directions that go along with any online furniture purchase, they mine as well be written in Sanskrit  for all the good they do. I once heard that they were written in English, translated into Chinese and then back into English again. If this is true it answers a lot of questions. Unfortunately I still feel like a blonde when I am unable to decipher them.

After moving to a two story house I solved my list-less problem. I stopped thinking about the mindlessness, the forgotten and miss-remembered, the whole unfinished in my life. If I lived alone why would it, or should it matter? Oh, according to everyone my house isn’t a two story, it’s a one story with a basement. Well, if I were in Southern California it would be a two story house.

And now back to the topic at hand. Another aspect of me is the ease at which I am distracted. There is always something more interesting than what’s at hand. To which, obviously, I get rather bored, and very easily.

I’ve given up trying to change myself. I’ve given up trying to fix something that isn’t wrong. It’s only considered a bad trait by people who can’t see beyond the distractions. I would think that they would try to fix their inability to see before they tell me what’s wrong with me.

So to sum this all up: I’m like a ten year old in a mud puddle. It takes no time for me to end up, or rather,  down on my bum. But it’s okay because I undoubtedly have a lot of fun and an awesome story to go with the mud.

E.T. Aka Annie