Recently, I have developed an extreme inability to focus.
Basically, my mind is working something like this:
Okay, what do I need to do today? This report is due by 10am. But I really think I need some water first. My water cup is so pretty. Such a nice color of yellow. I love yellow. But I also like purple. I think purple is probably my favorite color. The tabs on my dayplanner are purple. Oh that reminds me, I really need to write all my tasks in my dayplanner. With my blue pen. Or maybe my black pen. I really love my black pen. It writes so smoothly. I wish my life would go as smoothly as my pen writes. Everyone told me that my thirties would be less angst-ridden than my twenties, but so far, it's been just as bad and maybe worse. That's probably because my dad got sick. I wonder how dad is doing. I wish he'd take better care of himself. Bladder cancer must really suck. On the subject of bladder's, all this water is making me want to pee. But I don't think I'll pee yet, because I know there's something I'm supposed to be doing. What was that again? My performance review. Oh, no wait. Um...a report? Yes! A report. But what was that report about again?
I wouldn't even want to be the voices in my own head. Just writing down what they say makes me feel tired and weepy.
I used to be so organized and focused. Now, I'm all at loose ends and it makes me feel nuttier than a walnut tree. Or Tom Cruise or whatever.
Like, the other day? I had to go to a meeting to learn about selling Girl Scout cookies. I'm really excited about it, at first, thinking, "Finally! Here's a way for our jinky little poor-ass troop to earn some money so we can, you know, go to the nature center." Because, sweet Lord. I can't get these girls to bring 50 cents for a troop meeting, much less $6 to the nature center. They just don't have it. Bless their hearts.
So I go to the meeting and it's the most bizarre thing ever (and, have you MET me? I mean, I have bizarre things happen all the freaking time). I guess all the other women pretty much know each other, and then there is me, and I didn't know anyone. (Okay, there was one other new troop and they had three leaders for eight girls, so I'm not thinking I'm going to be friends with them. That's just a bit more micromanagement of seven year olds than I can handle) Still, I think, this will be simple. We will come in, meet for like, one hour, and go home, secure in the knowledge that cookies will be sold.
Two hours later I staggered out of the building, bewildered and confused, clutching more paperwork than was required for my entire four years of college. My head hurt from the noise. My brain hurt from having to think about getting Thin Mints from point A to point B without a U-haul truck. (Our troop bank balance is zero dollars and zero cents, I can't afford a U-haul truck!) My butt hurt from the really hard metal chair I had to sit on the whole time.
Since that night, I still have not looked at that paperwork. I have no idea how to sell cookies. I mean, I can say, "Do you want to buy some cookies?" But the associated paperwork? Sweet Lord.
I'm going to have to hire an administrative assistant to help me be a good person to small children. I just can't think clearly enough to do it these days.