When she is dormant, life is calmer. There is less dropping of things and breaking of things and running into things. Multitasking, always a challenge, is much easier. Instructions and processes get carried out correctly or almost correctly. But when that bitchy ditz makes an appearance, things can get crazy and my lack of focus goes off the charts. She is the reason why people think I am dumb, especially my husband’s side of the family, even though I have more education than most of them; and even though I have done things like design and sew wedding dresses, design and make twenty-five foot high advertising inflatables, develop retail advertising campaigns and publish a book. It seems that people never remember the smart things you do or say, they only remember the dumb things.
So, in partial discloser, here are some of the dumb things that happened over the years when the bitchy ditz reared her unfocused head:
- I locked my six-month-old son and my purse in our van at the medical clinic. It was before the days of cell phones – Damn those automatic locking doors. I thought I was unlocking them at the time.
- I invited my sister-in-law for dinner twice and forgot to turn on the oven – Damn those ovens with two knobs. Only one of the two got turned on. TWICE
- I offered to cut my future step son’s nuts off at a family gathering because he didn’t like the walnuts on the top of the cake my future mother-in-law had made for dessert – Damn I really need to think before I speak
- And speaking of think before I speak, My blog Two Cornwalls and A Sometimes Ditz illustrates this point perfectly – Damn will I ever learn.
These are no where near all my ditzy events. My collection is large. As I get older, I have more and more unfocused moments…. or days…. or weeks.
My imagination, once constantly engaged in creative problem solving has taken a very long vacation. Writing any more than a blog post can be daunting so I find different ways to enjoy my days and continue to grow. C’est la vie. I am not going to morn the fact that my brain is not what it used to be. Based on my history, it never was 100%.
On my ditsiest of days, practicing piano does not go smoothly. Cooking can be a disaster. And even yoga can fall apart because I like to count my breaths to pace myself. Counting becomes a challenge, often going something like 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 16, 17, 18, 19, 40, 41, 42; and this is when I am only planning to count to 20. This is also why I no longer knit.
The ditz has wreaked some havoc lately. Just a few weeks ago, The Doc and I went out for dinner and while walking back to our car, a old building caught my eye. While my mind and my eyes drifted toward the building, my feet kept moving forward. Then I stumbled, my foot rolling off the edge of the sidewalk, and down I went. It was quite the stumble. I think I tried to catch myself by grabbing a parking sign, but that didn’t work. That only added some sizable bruises to my right arm. That ditz likes to make a grand entrance.
And then there was last week when I was backing my car, inch by inch, out of my curved driveway between a small garden wall and the plumber’s van. I heard that sound that none of us want to hear. That crunch that indicated that my car had made contact with something. In this case the plumber’s van. Then there was a pop and the entire back bumper of my Subaru (that crappy plastic bumper) snapped off and tore. I was literally inching the car out knowing that I have distance issues and curved driveway issues and visibility issues with my puffy-marshmallow-fendered vehicle.
But I had an appointment, so I went inside, grabbed The Doc’s keys and told him what happened. Ask me if I was upset…. ask The Doc if I was upset…. I was not just upset, I was totally flustered. But I had a haircut in twenty minutes and needed to go right away. There was no way I was missing the hair cut; and I am glad I didn’t because it was, as usual, a very relaxing experience. I love when my chatty hairdresser washes my hair.
Wouldn’t that have been a nice end to the story, a little wash-and-cut pamper time with my favourite hairdresser. Unfortunately, that is not the end…
I had planned to run some errands after my haircut. I was relatively calm when I climbed back into The Doc’s Ford Escape. As calm as one can be after tearing off the rear bumper of their own vehicle. It was not the first time the ditzy bitch had caused me to do something like this. There is a comprehensive list of auto-related ditz events. No problem. It was fixable.
I have been driving a stick shift for forty-five years. My husband currently drives a keyless automatic, which I managed to start by some fluke in order to get to my appointment. After my hair appointment, I sat in my hairdresser’s driveway for thirty minutes trying to get this vehicle to start. During that time, I called my husband nine times; but he, the man who never goes anywhere, wasn’t answering. I called my girlfriend, who also drives a Ford Escape, hoping that she could talk me through the startup process. No answer. I called JT, who just might know the solution. No answer. I was no longer calm. I was ready to scream. Actually, I may have screamed, the windows were rolled up.
And just when I was about to give up, The Doc called back. “Where were you?” I
yelled said, not very politely. “Here,” he responded in his typical lack-of-details way. After an explicit exchange, I communicated my plight; and while I was doing this, I made sure the car was in park, touched the brake and pushed the button… the car started. Of course it started. It was right after I said, this will probably work NOW. Needless to say I drove straight home. No more driving for the bitchy ditz that day. At that point, she was a menace to both herself and society.
During the time that I was in flustered-bitchy-ditz mode, the bumper of my Subaru Forrester was being snapped back into place and the torn plastic duct taped by The Doc. (See above pic. It doesn’t look too bad.) This took place when I was trying to call him and while he, for some unknown reason, had his phone on silent. The plumber didn’t see any marks on his company van so basically no worries there. I told you I was going slow. So all and all things could have been a whole lot worse.
My current hope is that maybe, just maybe, that ditz has done enough damage for the time being and life will be calm and a bit more focused for the next while.
Thank you for reading.
Photos: Jenn Stone