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Anyone who has ADHD knows we have moments. Actually, not “moments.” More like a 24/7 highlight reel of chaos.
You start out on a noble quest to do laundry. But then—oh look—the hall floor needs sweeping. While sweeping, you glance into the pantry, and it hits you: the chip basket has fallen! Civilization as we know it cannot proceed until you fix it.
So you pick up 47 snack bags, sweep under the basket, and feel accomplished. Except… now it’s been fifteen minutes and you’re standing in the hallway, broom in hand, staring into the abyss, trying to remember what the heck you were doing. (Spoiler: it wasn’t sweeping.)
Fast forward to this morning. I’m freshly showered, hair washed, teeth brushed, feeling like I could take on the world—or at least the dishwasher. I wandered into the kitchen and stood there blinking. It was like the Wi-Fi had gone out on my brain.
What was I doing again?
Then, slowly, my brain loads the missing file. The bitter, plastic taste blooming in my mouth jogged the memory:
Oh.
Right.
I came in here for water.
To swallow the allergy pill I had forgotten was STILL IN MY MOUTH.
By then, the capsule had dissolved just enough to taste like burnt gym socks marinated in nail polish remover. I lunged for the faucet like a woman crawling across a desert toward a mirage.
And that, my friends, is how I managed to nearly choke to death while doing absolutely nothing at all.
So if you ever spot me standing in the kitchen like I’ve lost both my car keys and my mind, just know the wheels are turning, real slow, but they’re turning.