I am a terrible multi-tasker. The real tragedy is that I still try. Every day. Many times a day, and with dubious results at best, or death-defying results, at worst. (For me to talk on a cell phone and try to drive is the definition of tempting God...)
Take today, for instance. I have a candle-drawer, in my foyer. I was given a beautiful, antique oak dresser some years back, and I use it in my entry-way. I have drawers for the family's cell phone accoutrement's, a drawer for gloves or hats, and a drawer full of various candles and essential oils - these for ambiance in lighting and scenting our home.
Having just sprinkled a few drops of "balsam" oil around our fireplace this morning, I was on my way to put the tiny bottle back in the candle-drawer, when I spied a "poodle present". Need I elaborate? Our oldest poodle does not have the best control of his urges these days, and he sometimes leaves a "present" on the rug. So I took a detour, to get a tissue and disinfectant spray. I gathered said present (very dry, thankfully) in a tissue, and sprayed the area. Then, I tucked the spray under my arm, and left the room with poodle-poop wrapped in tissue in one hand, essential oil in the other, and disinfectant under my arm.
Alarms should sound, every time I try.
I was "multi-tasking" again, and someone should stop me, or a siren ought to blast, yanking my attention to the task(s) at hand.
It wasn't until I reached my final destination, the cleaning-closet, to return the spray, that I began to question the order of events. With some degree of consternation, I realized that, yet again, my memory was quite fuzzy. Did I? Nnnnnnno. I couldn't have. But...what if? Sure enough, upon investigation, I found tissue-wrapped poop in the candle-drawer, and a little bottle of essential oil in the trash can.
Reminds me of the night I set my toes aflame.
It is my habit to unwind, each night. I am a prisoner of my routines, have been for years. Tim was deep in study, in another room, and I was more or less alone. My children were all small, and fast asleep. I decided to light a candle on my dressing-table, before crawling in bed with a book. I picked up the long-nosed lighter that is always close at hand (candle-aficionado that I am) and only then noticed that the red polish on my toes was chipped in one place.
"Can't have that" my brain thought to itself. Church was next morning, and I was going to wear some cute sandals.
So I detoured (oh, those detours!) to my bathroom, raised and planted my left foot on the back of the toilet, where all my nail-polishes sat in a tiny tray...
...and promptly lit my big toe. Yup. The lighter was still in my right hand. I was trying to multi-task, and as I've already told you, that is a big, big mistake. As the flame barely touched the toenail, I yelped in utter disbelief and surprise.
I don't do these things because I'm stupid. Really! Actually, it is because I have a bit of a high IQ. (Really!) I'm always too busy contemplating soteriology or sovereignty or pneumatology or how I next want to have my hair cut, to pay a whole lot of attention to what I'm physically doing. My life is lived all in my head, and it is getting crowded up there. Lotsa big thoughts, all elbowing for room.
So please - if ever you come to visit me, and you find poop in unexpected places...do extend me the benefit of the doubt. I won't have done it on purpose.