Medicated but still scattercated

I'm trying. Really, I'm trying.

I've got this story to finish today. It's not that hard of a story -- just involves putting together a friendly conversation I had with a new chancellor. Sort of a welcome-to-the-area, here's the new dude.
But I'm just not getting it done.

I keep checking e-mail, getting mad at people who e-mail me, looking up words, looking up terms, looking up the meaning in German of the people e-mailing me. (One is "powder maker" in German. I found that interesting. Did his ancestors make baking powder? Mineral powders? Flour? Gun powder?)
I'm using a "spy novel" simile to my story subject, because, after all, he worked in military counterintelligence as a special agent, and he's been EVERYWHERE in the world (abeit this traveling was done when he was a dull, placid little teacher) and so of course I had to research spy novelists, spy novel plots, military counterintelligence, etc. etc. AND NOT SURPRISINGLY, AFTER FOUR HOURS, I AM STILL ON THE FIRST PARAGRAPH.

OK, that's not fair, I do have 350 words, but I wrote about 340 of them over this past week.

The frustrating thing is that I'M TAKING MY ADD MEDICATION. I should be organized and focused. Why isn't it working? I was organized and focused last night when I decided to yank everything out of the closet and paint the closet canary yellow. Now that was fun! But this? This is for the birds.

Ditzery loves company

So I finally made it back to Big Lots on Friday, slinking in and surreptitiously introducing myself, confessing that I had purchased several items four days prior and proceeded to leave them here.

My heart pounded, and my face had turned red. I expected a fight. I expected them to grill me on WHAT EXACTLY did you leave, WHERE EXACTLY was it, WHAT EXACTLY did it look like, how many ounces was the Head-On migraine relief stick, how many tablets in the two Beano packages you supposedly purchased, WHY DIDN'T YOU COME BACK WITHIN 48 HOURS and DON'T YOU KNOW WE HAD TO RESTOCK THOSE ITEMS, AS THIS IS A RETAIL ESTABLISHMENT AND WE CAN'T LET MERCHANDISE JUST SIT THERE LIKE DUST ON RODIN'S THE THINKER? Well, huh, don't you?


I expected they would need my name, phone number, four forms of I.D. and my last iTunes gift card.
But they didn't. A harried but nice brown-eyed clerk took me over to a corner, where at least a dozen other morons like myself had walked out of Big Lots sans the items they had just paid good money for, leaving their bags in a pile like toys the first day after Christmas break, in the First Grade Show and Tell lineup.

It also gratified me that over 6,000 cell phones are turned in to Disney World every year, as are 210 pairs of sunglasses per day.

Ah, yes. Ditzery DOES love company. Always good to be among comrades!
.

Mea walks out of Big Lots sans her purchases

This is really getting old.

Will my head ever be screwed on straight?

Mea's Master Card turns up in her coat

I hadn't been aware that it was lost, until I looked for it Saturday at the local evangelist-church thrift store.

Mother & Father Scatternoggen were with me, so my humiliated horror had to be secreted and silenced.

Then it appeared in my coat pocket. Do you know how many times in the last few days that coat's been crumpled into balls, tossed onto chairs and thrown on dressing room floors? (OK, about one time each. But still. How that card stayed in my coat pocket is a mystery.)

Gravity is my friend.

Mea loses her keys today

OK, so they were locked in the car. I met my friend Lauryl for a three-hour lunch (meanwhile my deadline went missed, but I thought damnit, that's why I'm a freelancer: so I can put people and friends and life FIRST).

Fortunately, I had a spare door key (say it fast: dorky) in my wallet. Had the keys actually been lost, I would have been able to drive home (because I store my ignition key IN the car so my Everything Key Ring can be put in my purse immediately upon starting car) but I would not have been able to get into the house. This would not have been good, as it's 4 degrees here in Cheddarton Falls.

In hindsighting it, I see that I was distracted by carrying and remembering to carry the 10-pound jar of homemade bath salts I was bringing to Lauryl. (Keys should have been in purse immediately; this is no excuse.)

Bad, bad Mea. Good thing about that spare wallet key, though.

Highlights of the first week of 2011

• Life Partner traveled 140 miles out of his way to his mom's house to retrieve Mea Scatternoggen's scattered belongin's: a slipper sock and five gloves, none of which matched any of the others.
• Mea missed a writing deadline (is mentally incubating paragraphs at this break for diversion).
• Ma and Pa Scatternoggen are coming to visit tomorrow, to "see the Christmas tree" and the main living space of the first floor is a tsunami of notes, notebooks, unread newspapers, leftover ungifted presents, a pile of jeans inherited from friend JB (just got around to trying them on today), dog toys, two vacuum cleaners (from an ambitious Sunday afternoon of Resolving to be Orderly), more newspapers, blankets, pillows, dog blankets, dog pillows, three cans of hair-mousse whose UPCs are awaiting the finding of a lost CVS receipt for an unfinished rebate from Herbal Essence....you get the picture. Not exactly Mother Scatternoggen Material.
• Mea finally sent out first Christmas card -- actually didn't send it -- a friend came to town so she handed the card to said friend.
• Mea's fridge is empty because she didn't get around to grocery shopping.
• Mea's wine rack is empty for the same reason.