Officially, Talk Like a Pirate Day won’t come until September 19, but I’ve been saying “Arrrggghhhhh!” a lot this week.
It’s bad enough that if I leave the room for more than two minutes, my husband finds an Iron Man or Transformers movie to watch for the eighty-fifth time this month. However, the real problem is the channels changing in my brain without my permission.
Although I ‘m the only family member without an official diagnosis of ADHD, when it comes to distractibility, my sons assure me, “Mom, you’re the worst one.” They complain, “Mom could you just finish the sentence you started before you go off on a tangent?”
As I try to create or focus, the channels keep changing and I think about the following things instead.
Channel One: Trip Planning
This one’s a good one. I’m going to the United Kingdom in August. Nevertheless, it does entail some planning, booking hotels, and “hiring” a car. Because two weeks won’t suffice to visit all 700 places in the UK in which my ancestors were either born, baptized, lived, married, died, or were buried, I have to make decisions. That’s when the “Arrrggghhhhh!” comes out.
Channel Two Rental Car Insurance—or Not
I booked a rental car for the UK my through my auto insurance company, thinking that would allow me to waive the collision and damage surcharges. Alas, that’s only for inside the USA. To find out if I need additional coverage, I should “carefully read my credit card benefits.” Oh yeah, I keep those handy. Arrrggghhhhh!
In addition, according to Hertz, the question of whether my 21-year-old can be added as an additional driver is perplexing. After going through the fine print, they inform me that if he pays a young driver surcharge, he is old enough to rent the car, but he’s too young to drive the car. HUH? Arrrggghhhhh!
Channel Three: College Housing—or Not
Speaking of the 21-year-old: He supposedly had three housemates and a rental agreement for the fall semester of college before he left for his European internship.
Since he’ll return to the USA only four days before the semester starts, Hubby and I were tasked with finding used bedroom furniture for the house. We planned to take a day off, drive across the state, shop for used furniture, and haul it into said house.
Except for the little Facebook messages I get from afar.
One week before the big shopping day: “Wait. So-and-so backed out. We might not have the house.”
A few days later. “We definitely have the house. I think you should shop for furniture.”
This week (three weeks after we bought and moved the furniture into the house courtesy of the kids currently living there):
“Uh, Mom, I don’t have a place to live next year. Everyone else has bailed. Arrrggghhhhh! Did I mention I’m leaving for the UK?
Eight hours later: “Don’t panic yet. Ross might have a plan.”
Arrrggghhhhh! If you give me eight hours in which to panic, I’ll do a pretty dang good job of panicking. Moreover, when I’m panicking, my vocabulary goes a bit further than “dang.” I channel pirates with colorful language.
Channel Four: Windshield
My husband notices a crack on the windshield of the car my other son is driving and inquires about it.
Son: Oh, about that….
Me (in my head): Arrrggghhhhh!
Dad: What happened?
Son: It might have something to do with the fact that I work at a golf course.
Dad: Where do you park?
Son: In a different place than I parked until a couple of days ago.
Me (in my head): Arrrggghhhhh!
Channel Five: Bathing Suit or Not.
I ordered a new bathing suit online, because a day of trying on suits in a store is just too depressing. The shipment didn’t get here. Why? Because I accidently left the shipping address as it was the last time I shopped at Land’s End. It shipped to a house two and a half hours away, where my son no longer lives. Arrrggghhhhh!
Did I mention that my kids think I’m ADHD?
Channel Six: Writing