Mr. H. often tells me I get distracted too easily. Perhaps I do, but I think he enjoys pointing it out just a little too much.
This afternoon, I went downstairs to put a load of clothes in the washer and noticed that Liza (cat) had deposited a hairball in the hallway. When I went to get t-tissue to clean it up, there wasn’t any in the downstairs bathroom, so I went to the utility room to get some from the stash. That’s when I noticed Liza’s litter box needed to be cleaned, so I cleaned it, then I had to take the bag of “stuff” to the outside garbage can.
When I came back in, instead of going back to the utility room to get the t-tissue and clean up the hairball, I went upstairs and folded clothes that I’d taken out of the dryer earlier.
Later, when Mr. H. started downstairs, I remembered the hairball and yelled, “Don’t step on the hairball!” When I explained why I hadn’t cleaned it up earlier, he loved it! It was his chance to lecture me.
“You get distracted easier than anyone I know,” he said for the umpteenth time!
“I know. I know.” I said, giving him my most uninterested look.
“You’re supposed to finish one thing before you start something else.”
“Really?” I said. “Who made that rule?”
“That’s just the way it is,” he said. “It’s the only way you ever get anything done.”
“I don’t know about that, Mr. Superior! Remember when you used to work every day and I stayed home with the kids?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“I fed them and looked after them all day, cleaned the house, did laundry, went grocery shopping and had dinner ready when you got home at 5:30 - and I often baked something special, like a pie or cake for dessert. How do you suppose I kept from getting sidetracked?”
“You were younger then,” he said.
“So this is about age?”
“No. I'm just pointing out…”
“Maybe later. Right now I’ve got to go clean up that hairball.”