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Easily distracted

16 Mar

Imported from MySpace blog

On my way to the closet to see if my boots match my skirt, I have to pass through the bathroom, where we keep our tiny little stereo. I look at it and think, “Gee, some music would be nice,” and proceed to dig through the small pile of CDs that end up there after many shower-music sessions. I pick one out and skip through the first few songs. While I’m doing this, I look down and see my makeup bag in all its shiny glory and think, “Today is a glitter day.”

I reach for the glitter, but before I get there I decide I need to check the time to see if I have to start walking to meet my lady for lunch. I see I’ve got plenty of time but decide I need to check the accurate time on my phone, since our clock radio is set a few minutes ahead.

I begin walking around, looking for my purse, which is where my phone should be. I pad about the house a few times, and the purse cannot be located. Meanwhile, I remember my intention to check the boot/skirt issue and head for the closet again. While I’m there, I remember the last time I used my phone was near the full-length mirror, to send a text which may or may not have been about that day’s outfit. As I try to remember what I last did with my phone, I remember the search for my purse and begin wandering aimlessly, keeping an eye out for either the purse or the phone.

I eventually find the purse, but it’s got no phone in it. I have an internal dialogue about how neat it would be if I could just call my phone to find out where it is. Meanwhile, I decide it’s time to start assembling the various stuff I need to bring with me to work — dinner foodstuffs, paperwork and work shoes to change into once I get there.

Somehow, all the work stuff I’ve gathered ends up in three different places in the house — the food on the kitchen counter next to the fridge, the shoes on the dining room chair, the paperwork on the couch. After I run into the bathroom to skip a song I hate and realize I’ve forgotten to brush my hair, I begin rounding up the wayward supplies and discover my phone on top of the refrigerator.

By now I’ve forgotten why I needed it in the first place, but decide I might as well reunite it with my purse, but I can’t find it. I begin wandering around the house aimlessly again, run into one of the cats lazing in the sun and give him/her a pet. The CD I was ripping onto the computer makes a satisfying “ding,” so I break away from Adorable Kitty #1.5 and head for the computer, where I find my purse, and not one but two phones. After determining which is mine and depositing it in its proper location, rounding up everything I need to take with me, strapping walking shoes to my feet and stepping out the door, I realize I’ve forgotten to retrieve the boots I wanted in the first place.

And that’s why I don’t match today.




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