From Where I Stand

Tag: humor

  • May 1: The cookies ain’t coming.

    May 1: The cookies ain’t coming.

    The following is based on real events. Some so disturbing, you may not want to go into this. Overall, it’s best you don’t:

    A post I tried to submit to my Ring chat for people in my area. A post that was rejected…I think the Ring company is in on it.

    Missing: Girl Scout Cookies (and maybe my dignity?)

    So, a few weeks ago—okay, my wife says months, but let’s not get bogged down in “facts”—I gave some girls on bikes a wad of cash for some Girl Scout cookies. Out in broad daylight, the transaction from a grown man to two youths.

    Now, I don’t even like the cookies. Not really. Thin Mints? Meh. Tagalongs? Eh. But I saw the book, filled out a form, and handed over my money like a trusting adult who believes in the power of youth and innocence.

    Fast forward to today. I ask Alexa, “Hey, when do Girl Scout cookies get delivered?” And Alexa—bless her cold, robotic heart—tells me cookie season runs from February to the end of April. Welp. April’s over, and guess what I don’t have?

    No Thin Mints.

    No Shortbreads.

    No…uh…third flavor. Caramel something? I forget, but there were three in total.

    So I go to Wal-Mart and see some actual Girl Scouts selling cookies right there on the spot, the pros in the game. I ask them, “Hey, when do you deliver the pre-orders?” and they look at me like I just asked for the secret Krabby Patty recipe. “We sell them directly,” they say.

    Wait, what? (Knees weak, arms are heavy, almost vomited on my sweater, mom’s spaghetti). Eminem lyrics can often describe my inner turmoil more than I can.

    Now I’m thinking back…no uniforms, no badges, just a list and a story. She sat there on her bike, waited for me to get the cash, telling me her sister was too shy to ask. How as I supposed to walk away from that? How cold I tell a helping sister “no thank you?” The list I filled out had names, addresses—it was very legit looking. But now I see a different version…it was all a ruse. Two conwomen plotting a masterplan to not only gain some capital, but to soil the otherwise prestigious name of Girl Scouts. Can nothing be left untainted these days?

    My wife and daughter say I got scammed. I say there’s still hope. Somewhere out there, my cookies are riding around in a backpack, waiting to come home. Maybe these poor girls aren’t conwomen, but lost and stuck with these three boxes of goodies they just want to get home. What a burden for two fragile little souls.

    So, has anyone else handed $18 to a rogue cookie entrepreneur on two wheels? Or am I the only soft-sponsor of the Girl Scouts: Underground Edition?

    If you read this and have any information on the underground cookie scamming business, contact your local Girl Scout troop leaders. These girls should be considered dangerous due to their convincing smiles and noble stories of heroic sisterhood responsibilities.

  • Attention Deficit Hyper-something Di…..did you see that one movie?

    Attention Deficit Hyper-something Di…..did you see that one movie?

    The Case of the Disappearing Keys

    It was a bright and somewhat sunny Tuesday morning, and I was on a mission: get to work on time and maybe get my kid to school on time too. Sounds simple enough.

    But in the realm of ADHD, that’s a high-stakes game.

    I patted down my pockets, feeling the familiar smoothness of my phone and a strangely pack of gum from the last time I wore the pants. But where are my keys? I could swear I left them right on the kitchen counter. Poof! Like an unintentional magic trick, they had vanished.

    With the precision of a dog looking for his lost bone, I began my investigation. The first suspect: The little backpack I take to the gym. I check, but non he’s innocent. Second culprit: Oh, I must have left them in my gym shorts. Strike Two. OK, for my last and final witness, they must be in my sweater pocket, again from the gym. But wait, I didn’t wear my gym sweatshirt back from the gym.

    Also, should I wash that sweatshirt because I did workout a little in it. I am going to set it on the counter and get to that decision later.

    Time is ticking by…but I am unaware.

    I check my watch.

    Ahhh, 5 minutes have passed and is all I did was look in two places?

    The Odyssey Continues

    After an embarrassing struggle, I found my keys nestled in the middle console of my car. Praise Jesus! Fueled by triumph and adrenaline, I tell my daughter abruptly, “we are going to be late.”

    This one is my fault, but this does not negate the “we” here. After all, WE will be late…the fault? Well, that goes to my mind’s love of chaos.

    I decided to grab my coffee before we leave. So that I can have enough caffeine in my system before the first therapy session, which starts in, well, it already started technically. The ADHD fairy sprinkled her magical ‘let’s-distract-you-with-everything-in-sight’ dust on me.

    I decide the coffee needs some half and half.

    But should I add the fats to the coffee so close to my post-workout routine? Should I just be a man and drink the black coffee?

    Decision making with ADHD is like going into a labyrinth filled with shiny objects. First, I think about my daily caloric intake, specifically from fats. Next, I think about how I don’t drink enough “unaltered” coffee and always need to do something else to it, you know, be “extra,” aka “doing the most.” Also, should I add some sweetener to it? Or is that just another thing I can’t tolerate, the actual taste of coffee?

    I decide that I work hard and deserve the altered coffee drink.

    8:07 AM. The shock hits my body, we are really late.

    “Sweetheart, let’s go! The bell already rang.”

    “OK, I have to go to the bathroom.”

    “What!”

    I can see my future, homeless self holding a sign, “Free Corner Therapy, anything helps.” As I imagine my forgiving client’s patience running thin.

    “How could you take advantage of me, my time is valuable” I imagine them saying.

    “I am going to tell everyone you suck.” They will follow-up with the death blow of therapists everywhere, a bad review.

    The Great Forgetting

    I finally arrived to my first session of an overbooked schedule. Mentally, I am working at being present, not over apologizing and getting right into the material to show that the client’s wait was worth their time.

    “Again, I apologize….” Just like a slow motion Tik Tok video emphasises the behavior that I wanted to avoid. “Fooooooorrrrrrr beeeeeeinnnnnggggg Laaaatttteeeee.”

    Ahhhhhh….noooooooo…….

    Now they have to say, “it’s OK,” that they “get it” that they know the mornings can be, “rough.”

    But it shouldn’t have been rough, if I kept my keys in the same place, didn’t need constant caffeine to stay engaged, as well as some earlier things such as doing one more rep at the gym, doing one more page of writing, pushing for one more preparation of food item and one more conversation with my wife. I can do it….I can fit it in…….

    Conclusion

    Life with ADHD is often a rollercoaster ride where mundane tasks morph into epic adventures. While I may be the proud owner of the world’s most disorganized brain, I wouldn’t change it for anything. Overall, I like the way I think. On the positive end, I can get too focused, and feel emotions deeply. I think this benefits many people. It took me a while to accept the way I think, and clearly there are underlying parts that I want to improve on (cough) fixating on if people like me or not. But, overall, it’s me I have to accept, not try to get people to accept me by enhancing my stress with an ideal “mask.”

    So here’s to the beautifully bizarre world of ADHD! Even if my thoughts sometimes lead me down a rabbit hole or two.

    Now, excuse me while I try to fit in making a smoothie, packing my backpack for the day, and getting across town to the office I work at on Wednesdays.

    Wait, what is today again?