PNewL PNewS Volume 15 Issue 2

Now…Where was I going...and Why?

When I returned to my office from the living room, I had closed the curtains to the afternoon sun, ironed some fabric so that it was ready to cut and sew, turned on the dishwasher, continued to wonder where the can of basting spray is (for sewing, not for roasting turkey), swept the living room (stuff was sticking to my feet as I walked), and picked up miscellaneous laundry strewn about because I live alone and I don’t care that it’s strewn most of the time and I pick it up when I do. The pathetic part was it took me a minute to remember why I had left the office in the first place, and when I did, I realized I had not retrieved my calendar. I believe I am living proof that there is such a thing as Adult Onset ADD.

I know from personal experience that ADD can be pretty serious. It is a challenge for those who have it and even more so for those who are related to those who have it. I apologize for anything offensive here. In light of that possibility, perhaps I should call it Adult Onset MDD (Majorly Distracted Disorder), or perhaps it’s middle age. I am so easily sidetracked--I don’t seem to finish anything in a linear fashion. Often, I wander aimlessly trying to remember what it was I thought I was doing.

But wait--I actually am capable of finishing lots of stuff! Everything on my list eventually, but it doesn’t always happen in the way one might think it would or expect it to.

Recently, I cut myself some slack. I sat down with myself and I said look—these are the things on the list, you know the deadlines, you know the obstacles (appointments, meetings, dog walks, happy hour). Figure it out. The stress level has been cut in half. If I wake up at 3 a.m. and I can’t sleep, something gets done. (Bear, the extraordinarily large hound, has been enjoying the lion’s share of August at his other home where he can swim all day and generally has a more entertaining time, so his sleep is not disturbed by these nocturnal meanderings.)
See! Just now, mid-paragraph, I got up because I heard the dishwasher click off and wanted to turn it off before it started baking the dishes dry (energy waste and who needs any more heat anywhere in Florida in August?) and en route, I stopped at what I like to call Madge’s Fabric Shop (also in the living room), picked out two fabrics that are going to complete the quilt that has been covering the dining room table for a couple weeks, had a beverage and some lunch and now I am back. No harm no foul, but where’s the continuity here?

And therein lies the question: is there harm in being someone who can’t stay on task but is on many tasks all at once? I don’t know, but the buzzer is ringing to let me know the eggs are hardboiled and I have got to get the laundry out of the washer and flip the book-on-tape tape. You figure it out and get back to me. Thanks.

Things I am Learning and Other Miscellaneous Observations

• Next month, I am going to Boston for the AARP convention. My high school classmates and I are celebrating our 50th birthdays this year and I guess it was Laurie thought it would be a funny thing to do. Looks like it’s going to be a small gathering but hanging out with Laurie is worth the trip—the rest of ‘em will be gravy. Recently, I was reading “The Sweet Potato Queens’ Field Guide to Men” by Jill Conner Brown and she said about high school reunions beyond #25: “Everybody is kinda over themselves by this point. You’re no longer ‘fixing to’ do anything; you’re pretty much doing it or happy to admit that you’re just not gonna do it ever and it’s okay. There’s not much mystery about how you’ll turn out. You’ve already turned out about as much as you’re going to.” Words to live by.
• The other day I was thinking about…well, feet. And I thought of my mother who I thought had perfect feet. They were the same size as everyone else’s, the toes curved over just the way they are supposed to and they were just perfect. I, on the other hand, inherited my father’s although mine are not flat—just incredibly long and skinny with toes that go on for days. I have come to like them after many years. I have recovered from the attractive shoe salesman who said, “Why would you want to put shoes on those canoes?” (I was 16 and having enough trouble with life and self esteem and body image, thank you very much.) Anyway, I realized, I did get one thing from my mother: I have her baby toes. They are perfect…and that’s probably enough of that.

North Carolina Update

This pnewsings combined with the blogging is confusing me, in a not all-bad way. I wrote in a June blog about my visit to Asheville—I suspect no one reads it but the problem is I think I have already said it. The confusing part. The short version is I liked it a lot—Asheville that is. I went back in early August after weeks of perusing real estate ads online. I was armed with a list of houses that looked interesting all over Buncombe County (Nancy told me it’s pronounced like the second syllable rhymes with the first: “bun-come.” Phew I got around that.) and the name of a highly recommended realtor. I stayed with Patsy and Ernie again but I spent most of my time on the road, logging over 300 miles, not to mention the three adventures with the realtor.

I found the driving entertaining. Someone steals road signs out in the boonies. Why is up for discussion…my realtor said it’s kids, another person said it was because people don’t want you to be able to find them. Well, I couldn’t find much of anything. I stopped out in the middle of nowhere with the map spread out and the cutest guy stopped to ask if I was lost, and I said, “Yes, but I have been for several days now so I am getting used to it.” He laughed, and drove off. Yet another missed opportunity. Then there’s the problem of missing signs and roads that jog uncontrollably hither and yon. I stopped at an intersection and another handsome gent pulled up. I said, “I’m looking for Turkey Creek Road…” and he paused and chuckled, and I said, “I mean the part that goes THAT way…” (As opposed to the part I had already been on.) He helped me get going the right way or that is the correct direction. It was a challenge. I have always thought of myself as having a good sense of direction--apparently not in the hills of western North Carolina though.

So I looked at several different communities and tons of houses from the outside. I eliminated several areas because they were too far away from something or it didn’t feel like there was any “there” there or the houses were too new or the opportunity for putting in a huge new development was too close or the I’s weren’t dotted and the T’s weren’t crossed. And then Lisa the realtor and I went inside some places and there were even more reasons to eliminate them. A couple we hardly went in the driveway much less inside—we could smell the funk from the street. I love house-hunting. It is highly addictive. I have spent a lot of time wandering the real estate websites (endless opportunities) and getting inside is even better--looking at nooks and crannies and inside closets etc. It’s legitimate snooping.

I found a house I loved just before leaving. It, of course, sold the day I decided to think about maybe possibly putting in an offer. Everyone says, “…then it wasn’t meant to be.” Yeah, well, whatever. I have since found another “perfect place” and am wondering what to do next. I check each morning to see if it has sold. I don’t know if there is any activity on it, but it sits on my computer screen, silent, clean, empty. I asked Sue who will be vacationing in the area this week if she would call my realtor and swing by. She said she would try but feels it is way too big a responsibility, having a yea or nay opinion.

What the heck is going on here? I hear you cry. I don’t know. I love parts of the life here in Southwest Florida. It’s lovely, the birds are so cool. I have people, a place. But I don’t see myself living here forever and if that’s the case and there’s some place else that looks interesting, why not? And one of the many things I learned in moving here is that there are fabulous people everywhere. How cool is that? Onward!...?

"Sometimes you count the days, sometimes you weigh them.” Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat Pray Love