I’m feeling proud of myself this weekend. Ok, I haven’t graduated with honors, or climbed Mt. McKinley, or single handedly remodeled my kitchen. Though, God, that would be awesome. My kitchen is so small it’s more like a cupboard than a room.
Life can become a lot. There are always obligations to deal with; someone’s having a baby, and you have to go to the shower, and you’re not sure if it will come out very cute, and if not what do you say? You don’t want to lie and say the child is adorable – BIG FAT LIE! – but it’s considered fairly rude to openly proclaim to a new mother that her baby looks like Rodney Dangerfield’s runt cousin, even if it’s pretty blatantly obvious. Someone I knew once had a baby, and seriously, this was one unattractive situation. “Aren’t you so sweet?” is usually pretty safe. But you might have other obligations, like parties to attend, or commitments to activities, or just standard, unexciting things like chores. Get the oil changed. Mow the lawn. Dismember a body, if you happen to be Dexter Morgan. That type of thing.
I can’t always do these things. Not the dismembering, because generally speaking I don’t kill people as a hobby or profession. But there are things I can’t always do, for a variety of reasons, though the reasons pretty much all fall under the category of MPD. Like my sister and I might be planning on going to a movie, but I have a problem with some aspect of my health. Or I’m supposed to do laundry, but I have anxiety over going to the Laundromat because of past situations and issues. Or I need to drive over to a friend’s house, but I’m ‘little’. A typical person makes a list for the day, week, or when they get inspired to actually do something. It might look like this:
- make dinner
- no, go get groceries, then make dinner
- email granny about her hip
- clean up that mess that came from an animal
- put away toys, weapons and victims
- watch that movie you rented before it’s due
That list doesn’t seem so hard. But for me, or someone like me (crazy) this can be an issue.
My mind doesn’t always want to go in one direction. My sister’s brain is awesomely linear, so if she loses the car keys she can re-trace her steps and find them. When I lose them she tries this trick with me, but it rarely works. For one thing, my mind thinks so many thoughts in a teeny amount of time, it’s really hard to re-trace. Just while I was in the shower today I thought of five blogs I wanted to write about, a new idea for a graphic novel, a word I was curious about, and had a curiosity about fetishes and disorders. That’s when I wasn’t wondering about why I’ve been so tired this weekend, how I was going to go for a walk if it ends up being hot again today, or why the sponge in the bathtub never seems to stink as much as the one by the sink. My brain thinks a trillion little thoughts, all the time, and I really wish someone would invent a bodycamera so I could just push a button on my neck when I wanted to capture the idea that is fleeting through my brain at that particular moment. Re-tracing all this to find the car keys is nigh unto impossible. And besides, you don’t really plan on putting your keys in the fridge because you forgot how thirsty you are and you can’t get the jug of water open with just the one hand. Or tucking them into a utensil drawer because you forgot to put away the pizza knife, which can be very distracting to some of us who like sharp, shiny objects that cause skin irritation and blood.
And I get distracted. So logical regression of activities is difficult for that reason, because I’m sidetracked so often I can’t remember what I was originally doing.
What WAS I originally doing?
Oh yeah! Being proud of myself. Well yeah, for these weird reasons (and the fact that my body is inhabited by other people from time to time) it’s not always practical to expect myself to do things exactly when I think I will do them. I WANT to be a good housekeeper….but I get inspired by something, or distracted by something, or turn into someone who just wants to color all night. So I’ve been hard on myself, and mad that I can’t make a schedule and keep to it and get some shit done, in my house and in my writing career, and in my life in general. But this weekend I did make some progress. I made a chart. I plotted out some tasks I needed to do. I gave myself a rough guideline and goal, without demanding exact adherence from myself. And though I haven’t gotten to everything that I’d hoped I could get to, I did actually do some of what I’d wanted. So good job, kid. A small step, but a step nonetheless.
i’m sitting here at the dreaded Laundromat, not certain what i should write. it’s hot. and slightly humid. and very hummy. the WiFi here is down, so i can’t play with my superpoke pet. it stinks, here, the washers smelling like old moldy pants and sour batches of grapes. i hate laundry day.
not that i hate doing laundry, because i rather enjoy the task itself. as a kid i did my own laundry, and remember carefully measuring the detergent into the washer. i’m one of those people that has to fill the washer halfway up with water, add detergent, and stir gently, not shake, to mix all the liquids together properly, like i’m making a secret martini for James Bond.
but some days it’s just too much. too many people at the matt, too much folding, too many quarters to stick in slots that aren’t NEARLY as fun as the ones at the casino.
some days, i think i should just be a nudist.