MITCHELL’S MUSINGS: Where was I again?

It’s like I can’t concentrate long enough to get the thing done that I originally intended to do.

I’ve been accused of being absent-minded before, in fact my brother used to call me ‘professor’ because I was kind of engrossed in my own thoughts and out of it, plus I wore glasses.

At least I think that’s why he called me that. Or maybe just because I was just so darn smart. Likely not.

Anyway lately it’s getting a bit out of hand. It’s like I can’t concentrate long enough to get the thing done that I originally intended to do. Yeah, I know the joke, I could never get a job at a frozen juice factory, you know, a lack of concentration…..for concentrated orange juice, ah forget about it.

Like I was saying, ahem, I seem to be forgetting where I’m going or what I’m doing lately and it’s beginning to be a cause for concern. Although I guess if I’m noticing I’m doing it I guess I’m still OK. Not sure.

Here’s a couple of examples.

The other day I had to leave work to go pick up one of the kids for his ortho appointment.

I dutifully jumped in the truck, headed towards the exit onto 25th Avenue (luckily the only one) and caught a break as it was not busy and quickly turned left and headed into town.

It was all good, except for one thing. My house, and the kid I was supposed to pick up, was back the other way. That would’ve been a right turn out of the parking lot.

Aaaaaaarrrrrgggggghhhhhh.

It was like I was skipping a key step and heading to the ortho office first.

Of course you always feel foolish when you do this kind of thing and curse a little (or maybe more) and do your best to find a turnaround spot that’s not very obvious, even though no one knows you screwed up, or cares for that matter.

Now I can blame this one on being in a hurry, as usual, because I leave things too late, and it was a busy day and all (you know us high-powered executives can’t be expected to make the right decision all the time, ahem) but wait until I tell you about the next incident.

You see, I’m a list guy.

First thing I do in the a.m. at work is write down a list of what I hope to accomplish that day.

Some easy, some not so easy but must be done and some are what I would call more like goals.

Nevertheless I take great delight in crossing things off this list as the day progresses so I have some feeling of accomplishment and not to forget what I still need to do to earn my daily keep, so to speak.

Anyway, bottom line, I’m lost without it.

And, of course, being 54 and old school this list is written by hand, in ink, on a reporter-notebook style (with coils) lined paper.

Occasionally I circle items for importance or urgency and it’s pretty much my road map (or GPS if you prefer) for the day.

So, if, and when it goes missing there’s a bit of a problem and there’s no backup system or Houston to call in case of emergency.

Like last Wednesday (gee maybe I was just having a bad day, I should check my horoscope or something), when around 3 p.m. the little piece  of 4” X 8” paper went AWOL.

I looked in the usual places. Under the pile of papers in my 14” X 8” daytimer, in the middle of that same pile, in a few other piles on my desk (I know, I know, I have a clutter issue) and even in the piles on the counter behind my desk – all to no avail.

I was lost, not to mention wondering how something could disappear into thin air on my watch. And, of course, we won’t even get into spending at least 15 minutes of my day fruitlessly looking for something that I had somehow misplaced.

I eventually gave up, did my best to remember what was left on the list and went home fretting about forgetting something important that I had neglected to do.

Of course, I found it the next day.

I had flipped the page to write a note to myself sometime during the day, I guess, and so the page with my list on it was tucked in underneath the front of the notebook, you know exactly how these things are supposed to work.

Gee, never thought to look there. Duh.

Let’s hope this Wednesday goes a little better.

 

Vernon Morning Star

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