Bill Rudersdorf Shares "The Pot of Gold at the End of the Rainbow" and a "Health Alert"

Recently, I was diagnosed with A.A.A.D.D.---Age-Activated Attention Deficit Disorder.

This is how it manifests itself:

This past summer, I decided to water my garden. As I turned on the hose in the driveway, I looked over at my car and decided it needed washing.

As I started toward the garage, I noticed that there was mail on the porch table that I had brought up from the mail box earlier. I decide to go through the mail before I wash the car. I lay my car keys down on the table, put the junk mail in the garbage can under the table and notice that the can is full.

So, I decide to put the bills back on the table and take out the garbage first. But then I think, since I'm going to be near the mailbox when I take out the garbage anyway, I may as well pay the bills first.

I take my check book off the table and see that there is only one check left. My extra checks are in my desk in the study, so I go inside the house to my desk where I find the can of Coke that I had been drinking. I'm going to look for my checks, but first I need to push the Coke aside so that I don't accidentally knock it over. I see that the Coke is getting warm and decide I should put it in the refrigerator to keep it cold.

As I head toward the kitchen with the Coke, a vase of flowers on the counter catches my eye---they need to be watered. I set the Coke down on the counter, and I discover my reading glasses that I've been searching for all morning. I decide I better put them back on my desk, but first I'm going to water the flowers.

I set the glasses back down on the counter, fill a container with water and suddenly I spot the TV remote. Someone left it on the kitchen table. I realize that tonight, when we go to watch TV, I will be looking for the remote, but I won't remeber that it's on the kitchen table, so I decide to put it back in the den where it belongs, but first I'll water the flowers.

I pour some water in the flowers, but quite a bit of it spills on the floor. So, I set the remote back down on the table, get some towels and wipe up the spill. Then I head down the hall trying to remember what I was planning to do.

At the end of the day: the car isn't washed, the bills aren't paid, there is a warm can of Coke sitting on the counter, the flowers don't have enough water, there is still only one check in my check book, I can't find the remote, I can't find my glasses and I don't remember what I did with the car keys.

Then when I try to figure out why nothing got done today, I'm too tired to sort it all out. Don't laugh. If this isn't you yet, your day is coming.

(And remember that growing old is mandatory but growing up is optional---and laughing at yourself is therapeutic.)