And [...]]]> It’s a well-known truism in ADHD literature that stress makes everything worse.  I’ve been a bit frazzled lately, what with looking for a day job, and getting rejected (or just ignored), and having a looming deadline, and my partner starting a new job with a crazy commute, and global warming and world hunger and baseball.

And with the frazzled comes a resurgence of attention problems.  Yesterday I had an appointment with my friend to get my hair cut.  She lives a long way away, I was taking public transit, and only a couple of trains go near her house.  I didn’t want to be late, so I raced out of the house … without my cellphone.  That would be the device with her address, cross street, and phone number in case I got lost.

Fortunately, I was able to remember enough of her message to get myself there — late, of course.  Though in addition to my cell phone I forgot to bring the book I’m reading, so I was bored as hell for two 40-minute train rides there and back.

Today, I was late for my art lesson because I almost forgot something I needed to bring.  After the lesson, my mind already racing ahead to the grocery shopping, the job search, my deadline, and the recent net neutrality decision, I stepped out into the hallway in my student’s home.  My student’s father and brother had been painting the hallway.  His dad warned us that they had spilled paint on the floor.  He told us to walk carefully so we didn’t track it through the house — so what did I do?  I stepped carefully and awkwardly around the paint on the floor … putting my hand on the @#%^$*&! freshly painted wall for balance, leaving a nice collection of fingerprints.

Gods I feel like a jerk.

But the truth is I was having a bad day even before the art lesson.  For instance,  I was going to make myself a salad for lunch, and with that end in mind I put a bunch of lettuce in a large salad bowl.  And I haven’t seen it since. Seriously.  That was around one pm.  At about two, I realized that I’d never eaten that salad, and started to wondering where it had gotten to.  I’ve looked everywhere.  I looked on the counter, in the fridge, even in all the cupboards.  I even checked the bedroom and the bathroom.  I’m beginning to wonder if I fabricated the whole event in my mind, and there never was any salad.  What does that say about me, that the kind of thing my brain makes up is salad?

It’s either that, or I will find it once it begins to smell.

Things have clearly gotten out of control here.  I feel that things like lost salad can be taken as a warning that if I don’t take some time and calm the hell down I’ll be losing more important things, like my keys, or my wallet, or my laptop.  I find that ritual is one of the most effective ways for me to do this.  I light a few candles, meditate on a bowl of water, and read a few tarot cards to see if they trigger any insights.

Maybe I’ll ask them where my salad is.

I had set myself an e-mail reminder for yesterday morning, reminding me [...]]]> I was on my way out the door today when I happened to check my text messages.  I’m glad I did; I was alerted to the fact that the Vietnam Veteran’s Association was coming by to pick up the donation pile from my entryway.

I had set myself an e-mail reminder for yesterday morning, reminding me that this was upcoming.  I read it and told myself, oh yeah, I need to remember that.  I had set myself an SMS reminder for 11 pm last night, reminding me that this was coming.  I didn’t hear it because I was charging my phone.

So this morning, trying to make a streetcar that was due in less than ten minutes, I had to haul several boxes outside and label them for the VVA.

The thing is, I’ve achieved a general level of organization such that this was no big deal.  I grabbed some paper from the office, a sharpie and some tape from the mail center in the kitchen, got the boxes outside and labeled, and I even (if barely) made my transit connection.

Why, then, was I cursing myself out as I boarded the streetcar?  Beating myself up for my chaotic ways is just such an ingrained habit, I start in on myself without realizing it.  Besides, it’s not like I would have been the only person, EVER, in THE ENTIRE HISTORY of the VVA pick-up service, to forget to set out a donation.

I did good today.  Even though my system failed me, I was able to compensate because of the strides I’ve made over the past few years.  I don’t need to expect perfection from myself.  “Good enough” is plenty good enough.

I was greeted by a scattering of ratsh*t.

Nice.

My cursory googling indicates that they’re probably roof rats. They probably [...]]]> No, the OTHER kind of rat pack

This afternoon, there was a noise as of heavy construction coming from the ceiling in my kitchen.  I went upstairs to the bedroom and checked the closet that’s in that same corner.

I was greeted by a scattering of ratsh*t.

Nice.

My cursory googling indicates that they’re probably roof rats. They probably found their way into my roof through an opening not much bigger than a nickel.  They probably like my roof because they can run from my roof to my neighbor’s roof to an adjacent apple tree in my neighbor’s yard, and roof rats like fruit.  Roof rats also to carry and transmit diseases by all kinds of exciting methods including aerosolized matter from feces and urine.

Here’s hoping I don’t get hanta virus, and that my landlords are responsive to this problem.