It’s official. I am distracted by anything. It doesn’t have to be important, in fact, the duller, the better.
This is a typical scenario in my home: Hungry, I decide to fry an egg. I grab the mini cast iron pan and place it atop the burner. Opening the fridge in search of eggs, I notice a jar of beet kvass with mold floating on its deep fuchsia surface. I grab the jar, dump the juice down the drain and pop open the trashcan to dispose of the beets. The stained trashcan lid catches my eye. “I need to wash that today; been meaning to do that,” I mumble to The Beast, who is lying lazily on the floor. “No time like the present!” I detach the lid and toss it in the bathtub with a squirt of soap and some hot water. “Hmmm, soap’s running low,” I think as I look in the cabinet for a new container. “So is the toilet paper and laundry detergent, too, if memory serves me correctly. Dave did laundry this morning and probably used the last of it. Better start a grocery list.” Wandering into the living room I grab an old envelope off the bookcase and uncap a fine-tipped pen. Soap. T.P. Clothes soap. As I set the list aside, I remember a few more items to add—coconut oil and onions. On the list they go! The pen slips out of my fingers and onto the floor. Retrieving the runaway writing utensil, morphs into a battle against giant wads of dog hair which seem to have arisen overnight. Off to to the kitchen I go for a broom, and quickly sweep both rooms. Dumping the contents of the dustpan into the lidless trashcan I begin to tie off the nearly full bag. Suddenly, eggshells catch my eye.
“Hello! Still hungry!” my stomach seems to scream. Ah, yes, back to frying that egg. As I lift the carton out of the fridge, a sticky pile of goop catches my eye. “Ick, that’s new. What in the world could be leaking?” I moan, heading to the sink for a damp washcloth.
Yes, this is how I operate. Things manage to get done, but I’m not sure how.
A fried egg DOES sound tasty…
(Originally posted on my old blog, Interim Arts, on June 10, 2014)