WTF: What The Fiasco! (The ADHD Edition)
As I sit here in my EZ chair, daydreaming about winning the lottery—which is exactly what one should be doing on a lazy Saturday—reality decides to crash the party. I have to get dressed. I have to go to work.
WTF: What The Fiasco!
Maybe I’ll just take a nap first...
Here’s the real fiasco: Adult ADHD. My mind is like a browser with 47 tabs open, three of them are frozen, and I have no idea where the music is coming from. It takes zero effort for my brain to ditch a "priority" and sprint toward a shiny new distraction.
For instance, right now I’m half-dressed in my room, supposed to be getting ready for work. Instead, I’m writing notes for this blog while watching a TV special on retirement. Naturally, I’m now Googling retirement homes. My actual concerns? Fixing my car and fixing my hip pain so I can actually keep working.
But wait! The real boss level of this fiasco is proving my income to NYS Health so they don’t yank my insurance. I have six weeks. If I can't work, how do I prove I’m not making money? WTF: What The Fiasco! I’ve never asked for public help before, but my hip is currently voting for early retirement whether I like it or not.
Hold on—have to shut the damn TV off so I can focus! Now people are talking in the hall! Hey! There’s a guy with ADHD in here! I NEED QUIET!
I’m 63+. Can I limp across the finish line to 65 for Medicare? Maybe I'll take Social Security and work part-time. I’d like to survive long enough for my 50th high school reunion, but every delivery gig is a gamble. I could trip on an uneven walkway, crack my head open, and call it a day! A coworker of mine did exactly that. WTF: What The Fiasco!
And Now... An ADHD Moment
(Not a Senior Moment. Not yet, anyway.)
What is the deal with broken steps and uneven walkways? And why are people building new homes without railings? Is this a conspiracy to keep elderly parents from visiting?
And don't get me started on the Hidden House Numbers:
- GPS is a Liar: It says I’ve arrived, but I’m actually three houses away.
- The Scavenger Hunt: I’m looking for a number on the door or mailbox, not on a plaque hidden in your overgrown jungle of a garden.
- The Interrogation Light: Don't put a bright light directly over the numbers. The glare makes them invisible.
- The Challenge: Before you yell at the delivery driver, try finding your own house using GPS in the dark.
Anyway, back to my original thought! ...Wait. What was I saying? I don’t remember.
Taxes. Right. I need to do them to prove my income. I haven't done them in a while, and I'm not even scared of what I owe—I'm scared of what it’ll cost to hire someone to find all the W2s I’ve scattered like confetti. Finding tax papers when you have ADHD is like finding a needle in a haystack, except the haystack is also on fire.
WTF: What The Fiasco!
If you want to help me retire before my hip gives out, stop by my Shirt Shop, my eBay Store, or just Buy me a Cup of Coffee.
Thanks,
E.A. (ALAN) Kogward
P.S. I keep bottled water in my car. This morning, I grabbed it for a quick sip. I forgot it was 32 degrees last night. One gulp in and—BRAIN FREEZE!
WTF: What The Fiasco!
No comments:
Post a Comment