A Day in the Life
I’ve mentioned my ADD issues before. Several of you have claimed that you have a more ADD-addled brain than I do. 
Maybe you do. So I thought it might be fun to see.
Exhibit A
So Glenn and I decide to go to a pizza restaurant last night. We go in, spend a few minutes deciding what we want, and then I walk up to the counter. The girl is nice and asks me what I want.
“Garlic—” I freeze. I panic. There’s three words in what I want. And I can see what I want in my mind’s eye, but I can’t remember the next two words.
There are three registers at the ordering station, but only one is open and taking orders. Under the other two registers, there is a menu. Under the register I’m standing in front of, there is not.
I look at her helplessly. She looks back. I look at Glenn but he’s just looking at me, too. I walk over to the little menu under the unused cash register, but things are in a different order than in the huge over-sized menu they had at the entrance. Plus it’s a different shape—this one is landscape, while the other one had been whatever the opposite of landscape is. The menu is a huge blur and I can’t get my eyes to focus on any of it, so after a moment of staring at it but not finding anything, I start to walk back to the huge sign, because I remember that what I want is on the upper right.
Before I get there, Glenn pipes up, “Garlic Cheese Bread.”
I sigh in relief.
Feeling more confident now, because I only have one item to remember—a pizza—I walk back to the lady and tell her I want a small piz—How big are your smalls? She points to a sign that has pictures of each, but, and I kid you not, there are like SEVEN CIRCLES of SEVEN DIFFERENT SIZES. I mean, GEEZE! So I’m comparing them, trying to come up with a decision quickly. A small is 10 inches, and I remember that a large at my old pizza place used to be 12 inches, and a small was 8 inches, so 10 inches is not so small as to be one of those little personal pan pizzas. I double check to make sure that the one that was 10 inches is called “small,” while Glenn grumbles, “Yes, a small. We decided on a small.” I take a breath. “I’d like a small pizza with—”
My mind blanks. I panic again. Three seems to be the number that overtaxes my brain, because I clearly remember we want three things and that they are white, black, and green. Resigned now, I walk over to the menu. I have to coach myself this time. I’m literally telling myself that even if I don’t know where what I want is, I have to read some words, and then through process of elimination, I will discover where what I want is on the menu.
I force my eyes to focus on some text halfway down on the right. My gaze fastens on a bunch of meat, but I know we aren’t getting meat. I just can’t see the rest of the menu, even though it’s right there. I tell myself to try another spot on the menu, but I’m still staring at the meat. I know the other ingredients are listed somewhere else, but I read the meat section again to be sure, because I can see that and everything else is fuzzy.
I tell myself to stop looking at the meat. I decide that next time I’ll grab a paper to-go menu, get a pen out of my purse, probably the purple one, the fountain pen (yes, I think all this while I’m trying to find the vegetables on the menu) and I’ll circle what I want, that way it’ll be easier when I give her my order.
And still I’m staring at the meat, at the same section. I force my eyes to roam the rest of the menu but I can’t see anything else, even though I have my glasses on.
So I start trudging back to the huge sign, because I remember it was the second section down on the left. I’m also feeling sorry for the cashier because I used to work in a pizza shop, and it was always so annoying to listen to people take forever to spit out their order.
And all the time, I’m thinking, “green… it’s green… something green…”
Then Glenn not only has the mental wherewithal to laugh at me, but also to say, “Green peppers, onions, and black olives,” as if it’s easy to remember these things.
This is why I don’t talk on the phone except to friends.
Exhibit B
As soon as I get on the phone, my mind blanks. I just sit there. And I go along with whatever the other person says until we hang up, and then Glenn invariably says, “Did you ask them about X? How about Y? And Z?” And of course I forgot all those things. And then he’s all, “But isn’t that why you called them in the first place?”
Worse is if I write down the questions. Then I can generally squeeze them in, but I often have to ask them twice if the question has been answered out of the order I have on the paper.
And then I hang up and Glenn’ll ask me what they said.
I don’t remember. Seriously, and this drives me crazy, but he’s always asking me what people said. And I never remember. And I get so mad at him, because it seriously taxes my brain so much it hurts to try to come up with even a general idea of what someone said.
And at this point I generally explode and tell him that it’s his job to do the phone. I don’t DO the phone. As in, during the first phone call with any company, I authorize Glenn to speak on my behalf. I’m pretty sure I’ve even authorized him to speak to the IRS on my behalf.
Exhibit C
When my best friend first found my blog, her first remark, with all the appropriate I-love-you-the-way-you-are-and-I-mean-this-in-the-best-way apologetics, was that she was surprised I wrote in organized paragraphs—so coherently, she said.
Part of why I love writing is that I can put things in order while typing. If I put my fingers to keys, something magic happens, and everything is easier. Yeah, I still forget within my writing work, but that’s a post for another day.
And that’s fiction, not non-fiction. (You should ask the most generous Mark about the time I emailed him, panicked, because I couldn’t organize my thoughts into a thesis statement for a non-fiction essay. He was very kind and did not tell me I was crazy and that there couldn’t be anything more basic than that, although he wisely also stopped suggesting I look into doing non-fiction freelance work if I wanted to be a writer with a good income, LOL.)
So. How forgetful are you?
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Natasha Fondren is a writer traveling the U.S. in a camper with her four cats. She is currently enjoying the lizards and desert heat in Arizona.
You are my twin without a shadow of doubt.
The mind screen, it goes blank at the stupidest times.
It does, Bernita! It drives me crazy!
My question is, what are you doing eating cheese when dairy makes your asthma kick on? (nag nag nag)
And my other question is, why didn’t Glenn just order the stupid pizza if he knew what it was?
But speaking of forgetful, I always forget stuff when I talk on the phone, which is so frustrating. and I always manage to forget the one crucial ingredient for a recipe that is written on my grocery list so then I have to go back to the store for that one thing, waste more time, more gas… aggravating.
Any more pictures from AZ yet?
LOL, Elizabeth! I can eat it safely once every 2-3 weeks as long I’m neurotic about making sure I don’t get a drop from other foods in between.
And about your other question, AMEN!
Today I have a sociology test, which is when I’ll go blank. I always do and have no idea why I pass. Must me I’m good at random selection; they’re all multiple choice questions.
Oh no, Kath! Good luck on your test!
Okay, you’re worse than I am. I can order my food. (And like Elizabeth, I’m wondering why Glenn didn’t order.) Other than that, I’m always forgetting things. Like you, I ask questions and don’t remember the answers. And I can’t ask my husband to do it. He’s just as bad.
LOL, Edie! I have to admit, I sorta forget it will be so difficult, so I’m the one that strutted up there first. But next time…
Oh gosh, my husband is older than me, and I’ve told him repeatedly that he cannot get dementia or Alzheimer’s, or I’ll be LOST.
Wow. I guess you weren’t kidding when you said you’re jealous of my memory.
And I’m with Elizabeth — what the heck are you doing eating dairy?
Oh totally, Melanie. I never kid about compliments.
I swear, it’s okay if I just eat it one meal, once every two-three weeks, as long as I’m neurotic about not eating anything that has “hidden” dairy.
it all depends on how overworked I am. I typically am not very forgetful at all. But at times I certainly get frazzled.
I’m jealous, Charles!
I don’t remember what the exact question was, but I don’t go to restaurants until I’ve practically memorized the menu (from online) beforehand. I have to be chained to my desk to write my blogs. If I have a task, I do NOT leave the room until it’s done. Otherwise I’ll get involved in something in another room and never come back. If I have to prop something on my car while I unlock the door, I place it on the hood, directly in front of the drivers seat, NOT on the car top. I love writing the novel because the end product looks like such a sustained act of concentration (HA). I like to have music in my ears, loud. My wife says this is half my problem. But oddly, it helps me extend my attention span (I have “The Bends” going right now.) Did I answer the question? There was a question, right…?
ROFL, Bill! Actually there was a study, that says playing loud music can boost your brain. (About 2/3 of the way down.
Isn’t it funny, the little things that we do to manage it? That is SO funny about the sustained product of concentration! If only they knew, LOL!
I have trouble with phones and those menus in fast food places, but I wouldn’t say it’s because of ADD or forgetfulness or whatever. When I go into a fast food place I always stand back and study the menu and make my choice before I get in line. Otherwise I couldn’t handle it. And aside from hating talking on the phone I tend to forget what I’m supposed to say/ask about during conversations. In my case it’s because I am just a bundle of nerves in any social situation, no matter how innocuous. I get so nervous I blank out. I suppose I should have spent less time reading books and more time dealing with people when I was growing up. And increasingly, as I get older, I start sentences and suddenly can’t finish them, or can’t get hold of words I ought to know. What that is, I’m not sure. You can see why I refuse to do all that in-person author promotion stuff! (Also, I am not very articulate in speaking. I tend to be confusing, if not incoherent. I know people seem to assume writers have a way with words. But I struggle and agognize and take time to make my writing coherent. You can’t do that while speaking.) But this is all very mild compared to what you describe. I can see that that would really freak you out.
Eric, the scary thing is that we actually did stand in front of the huge sign and make our decision. And then I repeated it to Glenn, who then confirmed it, before I got in line and lost my brain, LOL!
I am the say way with speaking! Ugh. Maybe it is the reading.
And the fifteen years of just talking with kids didn’t help much, I’d guess, LOL.
Well, you had the right idea. I finally responded to your question from a few days ago by the way. I’m bad at keeping up with comments.
LOL!
If it’s any consolation my eyes never make it past the meat either.
Hah! Travis, that’s so you! LOL!
I’m surprised the poor pizza girl didn’t call the police. Dude, wait until you go senile. *shudder* You can park the tent in our yard. I’m happy to take care of you.
It’s funny – I don’t think I’m forgetful at all. I juggle a zillion little details and chores at work, (but I do use a “to do” list and check them off as I go). However, if I forget one little thing, the secretaries crack up, look at each other knowingly, and say things like, “There she goes again!” Sheesh.
Hah, that’s funny, Robin! I’ve always been amazed at people who can do that!
I’ll write that down in my diary, so when I go senile, I won’t forget it!
Natasha & Eric: I mentally twitch when standing at a fast food counter. Even when I stand back a bit, the server will bellow some unnecessary welcome with a demand for an order. When I indicate I need to look at the menu, the server will usually stare impatiently, thump his/her fingers on the counter, shift weight from one foot to the other, start whistling show tunes, pick the earwax from his/her ears, pick at a scab, and maybe even pick at a nostril. I always rush with hopes of avoiding the nostril picking – and order poorly – crap I have no interest in eating. Gak.
YES, Reenie! Totally! Even when you stand way back, making it clear that you’re still thinking, they act so impatient! And it makes me so nervous!! Omigosh, totally!
It’s insane! I mean, it’s not like you’re in line or even holding up a line!
Ah, but the wonderful part of actually conversing with you is the challenge to keep up with your train of thought. I really do delight in trying to follow exactly what you are talking about, especially when it veers in different directions. I feel like I’m getting a brain workout, which is nice
Um, I know that probably didn’t sound like a compliment – but what I’m trying to say, is that I love actually talking with you!
I’ve always believed that you are a true genius, but the normal day-to-day stuff (like ordering a pizza) is a challenge. But, I think that is just a part of your genius, do you know what I mean? I think the genius part of your brain overtakes the day-to-day part of your brain. Whereas I think I excel at the day-to-day stuff, but I definitely do not have the genius part.
In any case, it makes you you, and I love you!!!
LOL! Well, see, I’m just making sure those synapses stay healthy and strong!
I always think you’re so patient. And I always think of you as the smart one! It always astonishes me how you don’t view yourself as smart as you actually are.
Awww, Nancy, I love you so much. I don’t know how I got so lucky.
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