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.