Rain of terror

OK, so I'm a little distracted today. It's a new deadline for a new issue of the magazine I edit, and I've got a couple stories to write besides. Things on my mind include:
1. Getting my 2016 year's taxes done by Sept. 10, my acountant's deadline for the fall late filing date;
2. The pain diary I'm supposed to be keeping as an exercise with my therapist to gain control of my osteoarthritis pain (I'm a huge slacker and have only made two entries in three weeks, even though I keep a personal diary daily, religiously);
3. The two prescriptions to pick up today;
4. The sources to contact;
5. Renewing my driver's license before Oct. 23;
6. Trump's horrid DACA ruling this morning;
7. Filling out some papers for Met Life;
8. Guilt for not helping my parents more with the family business;
9. Concern for my mother and her issues ....

So all that's hogging my limited brain space.

Meanwhile ... the vice president of the nonprofit for which I'm (the worst ever) secretary emailed me asking for the results of last year's board-member election in October 2016, as she lost track of the length of term for our new treasurer.

So I'm searching in vain, all the while slowly consumed by the uneasy recollection that, at that Annual Meeting event, I'd gotten so distracted by the speakers and by my own nervousness at having to say a few words to the audience that I forgot to take notes for the first three-quarters of the event.

The last quarter I wrote on a napkin, and it amounted to so little of import that I ended up sneaking by without putting anything on record. By the next meeting, November, everyone had completely forgotten that they'd never received minutes for the previous month, October, and I didn't bother pointing it out.


I popped two Adderall in an effort to gain some focus. While in the kitchen, I ended up rinsing out some recyclables ready to be binned. I'd been set to accompany my fluff-bunny Lhasa out for a walk, but we discovered it was raining. Feeling bad for him, I decided to play chase-the-treat with him around the house -- he needed some activity.

I could hear the rain falling harder and harder, so I hopped on the computer in the kitchen to do some work for a bit till it settled down. My partner came into the room.

"Why is the water running?" he asked.

I followed his glance at the sink and saw the water on full blast.

OMG. I'd left the water on while rinsing empty coffee jars and milk jugs.

The rain had petered out but I'd continued to hear the loud, pounding, soothing shower and assumed it was rain gushing out of the clogged eaves.

Perhaps this calls for a brisk walk to get blood flowing to that empty jar I call my brain ....