Adult ADD

As I sit here at 8:52AM in my seersucker blue and white striped robe with bare feet and bedhead hair, a poem comes to mind.

 I Meant To Do My Work Today

by Richard LeGallienne

I meant to do my work today,

But a brown bird sang in the apple tree,

And a butterfly flitted across the field,

And all the leaves were calling me.

And the wind went sighing over the land,

Tossing the grasses to and fro,

And a rainbow held out its shining hand,

So what could I do but laugh and go?

At first glance this is a poem about the deliciously inviting beauty of nature.  Look again, my friend.  These words are the cry of the heart of a person suffering from adult ADD.  Trust me on this because it takes one to know one.

Here are some of the nagging symptoms of my malady:

• The boxes of mementos from my mother's house lined up along one wall of my dining room
• The pile of stuff, also from Mom's house, which has sat in my sun room since the day (August 23) I unloaded them from the back of the Suburban
• My closet...oh, my closet (my pride stops me short of an accurate description)
• The cup of Earl Grey that I was so enjoying just a bit ago that is now gone tepid sitting 3/4 full on the kitchen table
• The counter in my laundry room piled high with stuff that I cleared off the kitchen table the other night when Mimi and Nana came to have dinner with Bryce and Reed  (properly termed "The Migrating Pile")
• The wet clothes left in the washing machine since yesterday
• The Salad Spinner left in the back of my refrigerator with a few wilted bits of leaf lettuce that are no longer safe to eat
• The pile next to my couch of Lubbock Avalanche Journal newspapers still tucked neatly in their plastic bags
• The looming guilt I feel about all of the above

I believe that it was my dear friend, Cindee Millard, that first lovingly pointed out that I might have ADD.  As I recall, she did not "diagnose" my capricious behaviors as ADHD.  I have come to the age and stage that precludes my having the energy level for the HD.  Before this diagnosis, I would have referred to myself as a terminally gifted multi-tasker.  I took great pride in all of my piles of projects.  My Junior League notebooks took up residence on one side of my guest bed and my PTA doings were carefully lined up on the other.  My dining table was my scrap-booking outpost.  The counter in my laundry room was reserved for the most annoying of tasks.  There on any given day you might find a Dillard's sack with a pair of jeans that the saleslady convinced me  were a must-have due to their "SOOOOO flattering" fit that need to be returned, lightbulbs that were purchased on a I-think-this-is-the-same-size-as-the-one-we-need basis that need to be returned (along with the actual burned out lightbulb which would serve as the "verifier" of the next purchase), an ever-growing stack of Alan's shirts bound for the cleaners, and a pile of recyclables plopped there as opposed to being neatly sorted in the recycling bags lined up in the garage just on the other side of the door that separates the pile from the bags by about 2 feet.
I woke up at 7:30.  This is what I have accomplished on this the 18th day of October in the year two thousand and ten.

1. Made a cup of Earl Grey and drank about 1/4 of it (the remaining tea will be poured over ice later today - good Southern girl that I am)
2. Spent quality time with God who rocks my world with amazing grace
3. Checked my email
4. Checked facebook
5. Jotted a few to-do items in my calendar (some of which are carried over from last week's to-do list debacle)
6. Ignored the to-do list (see numbers 3 & 4)
7. Felt guilty by comparing myself to people like Mother Teresa who would have already fed about 100  hungry people during the 2 hours I have squandered
8. Comforted myself by blogging the confession of my "productivity disability"
9. Felt guilty about all of the items listed above except for the second one

Oops!  It's already 9:33AM.  I need to be somewhere at 11:30AM.  If I start walking towards the shower right now, I might just make it on time.  Unless...I spy the remote control in the living room and check to make sure that the "good shows" have been properly recorded or a cat meows an invitation to sit and cuddle for a while.  On the other hand, if the phone rings I will most likely let it "go to the answering machine" because I'm so far behind on meaningful productivity for this day that God has graciously laid before me like a gift.

So, what can I do but laugh and go?  ADD or not, I will always choose "laugh and go."  But first, I must add the numbered list above to my to-do list so that I will, indeed, be able to check off some items of accomplishment.  Ta da!