Holidays to an ADDer mean calamity, lost items, upheaval; multiple conversations going on at the same time and the need to follow them all; packing up loads of stuff into suitcases, boxes, laundry baskets, carry-alls, etc.; trying to find a home for my stock of PCSs (portable caffeine sources) which are not even optional when I am behind the wheel; aforementioned loads of stuff falling out of aforementioned containers, leaving things behind, trying to leave destination before the caucaphony of voices and conversations starts making me twitch, etc. etc. etc.
Ah, the solace of the car. Finally. But then there's the drive home -- highways, lane changes, traffic cones, construction zones, full bladders, gas stations that seem to be magnetic places that draw possessions out of my purse, pockets, etc.
In short, every stop between Point A and Point B is a war zone, in the ADDer's mind, and Point B feels like someone has stuck a megaphone on your ear backwards so that all things loud pulverize your brain.
For women, the holiday experience gets complicated, and thus more opportunities for mishaps and misplacement tend to occur. Frigging Martha. I for some reason felt the need to bring not one but four loaves of homemade bread, homemade vegetarian lasagna and a huge vegetable dish, along with a gift for a bridal shower I missed and another gift for a sister-in-law's birthday.
A guy just puts on pants and shows up. What's he got to misplace?
It's attached, for crying out loud.
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