Yesterday was a snow day and my older daughter was home from school. Since it was an unexpected day off, she asked if we could have pancakes, which sounded good to me. When I started making the batter, I went to my pantry for baking powder, and there was an empty space where it should have been.
I thought back. Two weeks ago, my husband made waffles for breakfast, and I thought that was the last time the baking powder had been used. So I called him. He said he had put it back in the pantry.
Really!?!? I proceeded to tear my pantry apart. Seriously – I pulled half the stuff out of it, I looked on the floor, I looked on every shelf. No go. I then looked in every cupboard in my kitchen. I looked in my dining room hutch. I even looked in the refrigerator and freezer. (My sister once found her checkbook under some Chinese take-out in the fridge, so I figured I should at least look). I about made myself crazy. I was wasting time, spinning my wheels, and looking for something that should just BE WHERE IT BELONGS!! I finally decided it had accidentally fallen in the trash. I had no explanation for how this could have happened, but it was the only scenario that seemed to match the facts. So I substituted ½ teaspoon baking soda for 2 teaspoons baking powder, and went ahead and made the pancakes. (As a side note, there was no discernible difference in look or taste, and only a slight difference in texture).
Needless to say, the whole thing gave me a headache. I’m sure I raised my blood pressure and let loose all sorts of nasty stress chemicals into my system. So a bit later, I trudged upstairs to my bedroom for a couple Excedrin. And what should be sitting next to the Excedrin on my nightstand? Yes, of course, you guessed it. The Baking Powder. I mean WHERE ELSE WOULD IT BE?? This is my life, after all. It’s to be expected that it would be in the most illogical place ever! I picked up the can, sat on the bed, and actually said out loud, “Dear God, I need help. Professional help. Or something.”
Clearly, I have some form of organizational dyslexia. I didn’t even know how it had ended up in my bedroom. Until I remembered… I remembered the pom-pom maker that was lost. I remembered making my own. And I remembered needing a circle about 2 ¼ ” in diameter to be my guide so the pom-poms would be the right size. So I brought the baking powder can upstairs to trace a circle on some cardboard.
Apparently I have some form of environmental blindness as well, because I set that can down on my nightstand and never “saw” it again. I’m sure I touched it, moved it, possibly even dusted under it. But I never, ever put it away! And therein lies my whole problem. There, in a nutshell, is exactly what’s wrong with the way I’ve been living my life.
Now I’ve shared the mortifying truth. I’m not doing a 12-step program – mine is more like 100-steps, but doesn’t every “program” begin the same way? Doesn’t every journey start with that first step – admitting one has a problem? Well, I certainly have a problem.
Hello. My name is LaRae, and I’m organizationally dysfunctional.