not quite running on all cylinders

This box that I packed this afternoon is as accurate a representation of my brain right now as I can possibly relay to you over the Internet. All that stuff is in there and more. And it's all important stuff, just a little...thrown together. If someone packed up my brain right now and put it in a box, I'm not sure the list of contents would be any more cohesive. For example, I gave Jake's mom a birthday card today which mentioned how sorry I was that I missed her birthday yesterday, but how I hoped it was happy.

Her birthday is today.

I literally stayed up all night worrying about how I missed her birthday for no reason. I get this way when I move. In fact, I think I remember a previous post, oh, about six months ago that was very similar.

But the truth is, I'm not sure I ever function completely at top notch. Anyone who knows me can probably attest that I'm a tad...absent minded at times. I've just learned to function at that capacity. I don't know why I can't plan/write things down/put things in my phone like normal people. I just don't think of it. In fact, I think that subconsciously I believe that if I have to write something down to remember it then I won't be giving my brain a chance to fire it's own neurons and remember things for itself. I understand that sounds ridiculous, but somehow I received a university education with that theory as the backbone of my organizational scheme. I still blame the children for slowly killing off brain cells to the point that this is no longer a valid model.

As clearly, it isn't.

So, needless to say, packing and moving takes me from my precarious state of straddling normalcy and complete disorganization, to pushing me right over the edge into bumbling insanity. I'm at the stage now where I'm just packing random things, and that is, I think, what is taking the biggest toll on my brain. When I was getting ready to go to the birthday lunch this afternoon I was DETERMINED to be on time, because I'm always the late one, and I really had it all together and thought I was going to make it...and then I couldn't find my keys. I spent about 10 frantic minutes trying to find them. I searched through my purse 4 times, combed through every last crevice in the basement, and dug through my car, still no keys. And just as I was about to throw my hands in the air and succumb to the forces of utter failure, Alex offered to pray to find my keys, and guess what;

They were in my purse all along.

I'm guessing that as long as I've got Alex in my corner, I'm going to somehow be OK.