I cleaned the stove top yesterday morning so naturally the rice boiled over last night. It’s always the way. Last week it was the floor at the front door – all spic and span, washed and polished — the dog got excited to see his dad arrive home from work and peed all over the place (the excitement was probably warranted – I mean it had been almost 24 hours since he had welcomed his dad home at the very same door). I should have taken the beast outside before the object of his affection made his appearance, he does show up at roughly the same time every night.
Some things never change. I used to think I should just toss a glass of apple juice on the kitchen floor right after I washed it to save the kids the trouble. Or throw the clean laundry on their bedroom floor, flip it around and scrunch it – or maybe just fire it directly back into the hamper. But that was back in the day. Today it seems I am the problem – I have become my own worst enemy.
I get side tracked you see — and my memory isn’t what it used to be. Sometimes I find myself standing in a room wondering what I had planned to do while I was there. Generally I have to trek back to the launch of the voyage (usually the kitchen) and look around to determine what initiated the trip. Sometimes it isn’t obvious – I have forgotten what I was doing and it becomes a scavenger hunt for motivation. Other times it’s so blatantly obvious I can’t believe I’ve forgotten – like the half wrapped gift in need of the tape off my desk – or the fire on the stove waiting for the fire extinguisher from the laundry room.
I’m not sure if I’m preoccupied or pre-senile – I do know this condition is a hazard and I have lost more than one pot of rice to it.
Last night I was multi-tasking — goofing around with my blog page while I was cooking dinner. After 39 years of dinner making I find the blog page a lot more exciting than cooking – I totally lost track of time and was only pulled from the brink of blogging by the stench of burning rice. And now, as you’ve probably surmised, my mind has wandered again. This time I’ve forgotten all about the blackened pot still soaking in the kitchen sink.