Strange fruit

So I went to my garden this morning to pick beans, and what did I find? Shoes.

Yes, the pair of fairly nice flats I wore last week to see the ADHD therapist. Growing right there between the green beans and Swiss chard. So much for that. I vaguely recall walking up the driveway, spotting some beans and getting distracted by them, of course, and harvesting a huge happy heap then and there.

I must have stepped out of my shoes -- no, not must have, obviously DID step out of my shoes. And there they stayed.

Over the weekend, I traveled out of town to work for my parents. Managed to get back home last night with everything I left with -- at least, I think everything's intact.

It was the item I didn't bring down there with me that bit me in the butt: My paycheck.

My dad had handed me and another coworker our paychecks and then asked me to follow him in his car to their house. He's ADD, too. He was in a hurry, so I left pronto without grabbing my purse.

Back at the store five hours later, I realized my handbag did not contain a check. I searched all over the store, trash, my car, bags and purse, dumping the latter out three times. I vaguely remember folding it up discreetly when my dad gave it to me -- but fog takes over after that.

Dad later called me last night to say he'd found the check in his car. Pfffewwwww.

But jeez.

So the reason he asked me to drive his car home in the first place -- not that it's to blame in any way. The evening prior, my parents (who drove separate cars) left work early to go to church and dinner directly from work (we all worked together Saturday). Since they took off in my mom's car, he completely forgot that he left his own car (unlocked and windows wide open) at the store overnight until he arrived at work Sunday morning in my mother's car and saw what appeared to be a car just like his.

He even had to check the license plate to convince himself it WAS his, as he hadn't noticed his car missing when he pulled out of the garage in my mother's car.

The tree doesn't grow far from the apple.

Redeploying the troops

I've just arrived home from my third meeting with the therapist I've enlisted to help me battle these insurgents in my brain called ADHD. Trying to corral all of the mental missiles, projectiles and drones has left me battle weary. So I'm refreshing/recharging with my chosen ammo, coffee with cocoa-flavored cream, which is sure to frighten off these cranial terrorists just by the sound of it.

In the last eight days, I've dropped my MP3 player (a/k/a my pacifier and grip on life) into the toilet and ruined it, dropped my cell phone in the dewy grass at 9 p.m. in the dark on a state trail and didn't realize it till I got home (fortunately, subsequently retraced route and found it), and completely lost my pedometer (a/k/a my keeper and evaluator). I ordered replacements for No. 1 and No. 3. This neurological condition is draining my war coffers.

To top it off, I LOST or misplaced the 4-page questionnaire the ADHD coach/therapist gave me to fill out. And it was partially filled out. Which means that somewhere out there floats a document with my vitals on it along with a list of my private medications (including Adderall, so welcome meth dealers, here is my stash right at this address) and a checklist of my physical maladies. Thank goodness I did not check the box that said "sexual dysfunction" and also that there was no box marked "constipation," as practically all of these medical forms of every kind seem to have. Why everyone wants to know if you're constipated remains a mystery.

At least something went right today.

Roster of things currently missing from my person:

1. One Swiss-blue topaz ring, a gift from my sweetheart;

2. Antique glass doorknob (long story; I took it out walking with me)

3. Many, many earrings but most importantly the original non-allergenic earring that came with my piercing.

4. Two library CDs from an audiobook by Jonathan Kellerman

5. A hot pot.

6. Key to our mailbox.

7. My MP3 player.

8. My sanity.

Instead of hunting for Easter eggs ...

I spent the morning looking for my glasses. At least a good share of the morning. Finally found them peering out at me from atop the coffee maker.

I'm "on the road" right now. Not literally; in fact, I'm sitting at my parents' den table. They're in Florida right now, basking in the sun, whilst I stay home with their two obnoxious male dogs and my brother's obnoxious male dog, for a total of three OMDs. One kept me up all night barking because his arthritis has practically crippled him, and the poor thing couldn't move for about 20 hours. I finally hoisted him up with a scarf as a leverage device and got him outside this morning, where he remains, because he won't use the makeshift ramp I made for him.

Anyway, over the last few days, I've spent practically half a day searching for misplaced stuff. Yesterday, en route on the 100-foot walk from the parents' dining room table to my car in their garage, I managed to misplace their garage door opener. I must have emptied out my purse and totebag six times. Finally, it surfaced on the seat of the car. Pfffeww.

That was how I arrived at my parents' place of work, which I'm more or less tending while they're gone: flustered, annoyed with myself and with my hair standing on end from all of the fruitless tearing at it that occurred during the search.

WHEN I ARRIVED BACK HOME afterward, I realized I couldn't locate the USB cord for my MP3 player. (Catastrophe on the scale of Katrina.) Again, the totebag, laptop bag and handbag were dumped upside down and their contents sifted like a baker with his cake flour. Not once, not twice, but at least four times each. No sign of it.

Searched the car: Nothing.

Searched my pockets: Nothing.

It has become physically impossible to walk dogs without MP3 entertainment. So at 9:30 p.m., I headed back to my parents' place of work downtown. Still nothing.

Got home, parked the car in the garage, went inside, vowing to buy another cord at Walmart the next day.

Searched the car one more time. Voila! There it was under my shoe on the garage floor! Must have leapt out of the car when I alighted it.

NOW GUESS WHAT IS THE PROBLEM. I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count. But it's probably obvious: My MP3 player has slipped out of my periphery.

Aaaaah, well, it's Easter. Just pretend these are adult Easter eggs.

No calories, at least.

And the toothbrush ran away with the spoon.

It's deadline time and I'm not in my right mind. To illustrate, I found a wad of chewed gum in the coffee cabinet, where I apparently put it instead of in the waste receptacle 18 inches away, and with the intention of brushing my teeth, I grabbed the toothpaste and ran a spoon under the faucet instead of the toothbrush. That could have hurt.

I just came back from a few brief and circumscribed errands after a week of what seems like nonstop writing. One of the errands was the bank, where I deposited some checks (yay!) and asked for 1. some temporary checks (because I'm all out -- yay for me for planning ahead), 2. a summary of my balance (yay for me as I may have enough to add to my Roth for 2014), and 3. some cash back (yay for me for thinking ahead again!).  I'm taking charge, thought I; I may lick this disorder yet!

Two stops later, I am at the library self-checkout kiosk when I realize the bank dude gave me my balance summary, the temporary checks, a receipt ... and no cash back. Went back to the bank, only to arrive at 5:01 p.m. and locked doors.

At least I noticed the lack of cash back. That's a sign of progress, I guess. Regarding the spoon and the gum, that's another story.

As long as I made it back home in one piece and with my library materials, that's all the matters, right?

Shoes this time

So one day this week, I wandered around the house for 15 minutes with my coat and mittens on, with one shoe on and one shoe off. Isn't it obvious what I was doing? Looking for the shoe's mate.

I'd gotten the hounds leashed- and sweatered-up, had my phone, MP3 player, poop bags and all of the ingredients that go into a dog walk. While sitting on the step, putting on my shoes, I remembered that I needed to call the vet and make an appointment for Hound No. 1. So I ran mid-shoe to the kitchen to make the call.

I then noticed dishes in the sink that needed to be put in the dishwasher because it was wet outside and I no doubt would need to put Hound No. 2 in the sink to de-muddify his hairy paws after the walk.

This led to cleaning off the counter, updating the grocery list posted on the fridge and checking my email.

When I finally got my act together, I realized only one foot was shod.  My poor dogs were forced to wait patiently while the Scatternoggen wandered around the house like a 5-year-old, looking for her left shoe. My better half finally pointed it out, on the floor at the foot of the staircase, also waiting for me.