Chances are you have seen the commercial from back in the 80’s called This is your brain on drugs. In case you weren’t yet born, check it out and in case you were old enough to remember it, here it is for your re-viewing pleasure. Although I am drug and alcohol free (by choice and not of necessity), I have my ‘this is your brain on hyper-drive’ moments. Lately, they have been looking like double booking clients, forgetting appointments, quadruple checking on them (and no, I don’t have OCD) and last month was actually a week early for a meeting. Good thing the person was at home after I drove nearly an hour to get there and she was gracious enough to accommodate my middle-age (a.k.a ‘wise woman’) moment with good humor.
Easily distracted lately, I am amazed that I am able to accomplish as much as I do; checking things off a multi-item list with glee. There are times when I don’t complete every little detail, but am thrilled when I get close to the bottom of the list with little squiggly lines drawn across the activities that once glared at me with a double dog dare you to tackle me squint. At the moment, I am writing this at 10:18pm after a day that began at 7 with writing, seeing my first client at 10 am and finishing with my final client for the day at 8:30pm. I thought about staying later to finish some paperwork, but instead, reminded myself that the kindest thing would be to take my weary self home. When I pulled into my development 30 minutes later, I wished I had stayed those few extra minutes since the flashing red and blue lights of a police car greeted me when I did. I wondered what had attracted such attention, since I knew I hadn’t been speeding and had not gone through any red lights. The officer approached my car with a question about whether I had been swerving a few miles back to avoid one of the many (might as well have been landmine) potholes that graced the back roads of rural Bucks County, PA. Apparently, someone had witnessed me and called 911 to inform them. I confirmed that this was the source of my veering across the yellow line, not because I had been drinking. Such an irony, feeling a need to explain that this teetotaler was on her way home from her job counseling those who have gotten behind the wheel impaired. At any rate, I cooled my heels after handing over the appropriate documentation, while the officer ran my information. He came back a few minutes later, laughing a bit, since another officer who had pulled up as backup knew me from a robbery we had at her home a few years ago. He assured this comrade that I didn’t drink. Wonder how he knew that; but whatever the reason, I had angels looking over me, since I didn’t get ticketed and not even issued a warning. I could close that tab at least.
I know that I keep tabs open even in my sleep, since my mostly entertaining dreams are often a carryover from waking hours. Dreamed last night about my radio show and doing it outside in the snow, running around with a microphone, trying to track down my elusive guest. I also dreamed about my parents going to Hawaii which is a destination to which they had never traveled, but had wanted to. My guess is that they could do it anytime they wanted to know that they need not fly on metallic wings.
My mind is frequently scheming, plotting and conjuring ideas for all kinds of creative mischief that almost always becomes tangibly real. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I only kept a few tabs open at once. Would I be even more productive if I didn’t have my (clean) fingers in a whole bunch of pies, so many plates spinning on dowels and so many colorful balls and bowling pins lofting in the air? I am willing to find out.