Well, it certainly seemed that way—with every wretched creature or thing in this household serving as a colossal distraction. There were those with an unquenchable thirst for adult conversation, those who became obsessed with humming and singing some inane little jingle, those who crawled onto my lap to punch the keyboard with glee, those who needed help fishing nuggets of soggy cereal out of their orange juice and those who had fevers and sore throats and the urge to hurl into a big bucket every 10 minutes.
Further, whenever a window of peace and quiet happened upon me, the damn dog whimpered, demanding to be walked or fed. Worse yet, our newish hermit crabs felt compelled to seize each and every precious sliver of silence I witnessed, scuttling about like spiders, dragging their fiendish little bodies hither and yon and making my skin crawl with every scrape and scratch that emanated from that loathsome, stench-filled tank. Gak!
To top it off, I had to deal with a flooded bathroom one morning—which stemmed from owning a stupid pipe that decided to dissociate from its stupid tank—resulting in a stupid deluge that lapped at my heels until I wised up enough to throw down some stupid towels. Curious onlookers took impeccable notes of the tirade which ensued. Thankfully, no one could reach or operate the video camera.
Perhaps it’s just that I have issues with being distracted. Maybe it’s all in my silly head and I simply need to learn how to focus more effectively. Yeah. I’ll bet that’s it. Deadlines or no deadlines. Learn to focus.
Planet Mom: It’s where I live (in a highly distracted state).