The Art of Living Deliriously

de•lir•i•um: a state of confused thinking and disrupted attention usually accompanied by disordered speech and hallucinations

Nailed it. Delirium is my new reality.

You think I am being dramatic. Fair enough. Let’s address this point by point.

We shall start with confusion, as that is how I start every day.

Yesterday, somone asked me what day of the week it was. Not the date, mind you, just what day of the week. I had no idea. I was shocked to find out it was Thursday. So shocked, in fact, I told them they were incorrect and argued about it. I made them show me their cell phone as proof. I have a cell phone. It didn’t occur to me to simply look down into my hand for the answer when was asked in the first place. And, note that I argued my “point” even though, when asked, I pulled a total blank. No idea at all. It could have been Frisatuesday. That would have made just as much sense to me as it being Thursday. Seriously. Total idiocy – c’est moi.

Next up – disrupted attention.

The other day I went to the kitchen to find something for dinner and, the next thing I knew, I was finishing folding a load of laundry in an entirely different part of the house. I sat down to watch a movie with my youngest daughter and got three high scores in Angry Birds. Relevance? None. I keep getting up and walking out to get the mail. Apparently, it is Friday, and I haven’t yet gotten it once all week. I can’t even explain what kind of wormhole I fall into in that situation. Why isn’t the mail inside yet? I truly cannot explain it.

Disordered speech?

Let me just tell you that it is a very good thing that my three daughters know their names because, if they were counting on learning it from me calling them by their correct ones, they would not know how to answer someone who asked what it was. Even worse, they might just answer, “Zo-Jo-YOU!”

That still might happen. For the record, their names are Zoe, Josephine and Gwynneth.

I was speaking to my daughter’s boyfriend a few days ago. It was an attempt to ask him to carry something upstairs. I got his name right, so that was nice. But then I just looked at him, desperate to remember how to speak. The conversation went like this: “[His Name] …” [cue jeapordy theme]. That was it. Thank God he had on his telepathy filter, because, after waiting a few minutes for me to complete my thought, he replied, “Would you like me to carry that upstairs for you?” I just shook my head in affirmation like a monkey. Disordered speech would be a nice improvement.

Last up, hallucinations.

This is an easy one. If you saw my previous post, you would know that I am seeing things for which I am looking all over the house until I go to retrieve them, at which point they are gone. I am either hallucinating or have moved into a house infested by the mogwai after eating chicken after midnight and hopping in the shower

. I see the “other” shoe I need, the dish towel, the scissors, the toothpaste. I swear I see all these things. When I go to use them, POOF, they are gone. The list is endless. I can find my husband’s Commodore 64, which hasn’t been useful since 1981. I can find my Chirstmas tree, which will be great come December. But my second flip-flop – no dice. Although I just saw it … I swear I did …

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