Space cadet

I have been out of it the last two weeks. Hardcore. Not so bad that I can’t fake it and blend in with society, but I’ve definitely been powered by fidgety-energy and have been sporting an attention span to match.

Consequently: sitting down to type text out (here, or in email) has been about the last thing I wanted to do. Instead I spastically attended to various loose ends hanging about my house: paying bills, cycling the dishwasher, hand-washing items too cumbersome for the dishwasher, laundry, ironing, etc. The so-called tasks of everyday living.

Only I didn’t do them with any sort of focus. I loaded the dishwasher until I got it in my head that I needed to take some cans out for recycling. On the way back from the garage I saw that I could start the dryer, so I did that and then wandered into my closet to figure out what to wash next. In my bedroom I stepped on something—the final straw to get me to vacuum my floor. After that I figured I’d make some tea, and so went back to the kitchen to discover that I left the half-filled dishwasher open. On and on and on. Fifteen thousand tasks spawned, each only given attention when I was physically reminded of the task.

This is no way to live.


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