senile dementia sets in.

Of course, now I'm 26 and no longer on any kind of drugs, my mind has started to unravel. Even though I am currently multi tasking to the max (dehairing my legs with the epilator, on hold on the phone to the cable company and typing this) it seems that my brain is unable to handle even simple solo tasks. I had lost a pair of tweezers and spent a good ten minutes in a whirling frenzy looking for them. Of course as soon as I use a different pair and pull a chunk of flesh from my eyebrow, I sit on the bed and find them precisely where I must have left them, ready to use. I have no idea when I went and got them. I must have, because they usually live in the bathroom.

Evidently the key is to do lots of things at once, badly. When I try and complete a single task, that's when I fail and panic. I underwent a massive spring clean yesterday. (Not personally, I spring cleaned my bedroom) It hadn't been dusted in years. I used to smoke and have no allergies, so it kind of got out of hand. I do a nice line in 'dusting-the-bits-you-can-see'. My mother refers to this as 'Man-cleaning', but I know a lot of men who are a damn sight cleaner than me, so that seems unfair. Anyway, now I've tided up and that, I have no idea where anything is now. Hence the tweezers fiasco. When my room was messy, everything that was in here had it's place. On the floor admittedly, but I knew where it was. This is what clean and tidy people miss about us messy bastards. We evolve photographic memories about where we last saw things. I could have told you where anything was and found it within 20 seconds. Now I'm reduced to poking through drawers in a vague and random fashion, muttering rhetorical things to myself, like 'if I were a fabric hairband, where would I live?'

Mess is all to do with strata. Like in rocks. Layers form and these can be associated with a particular date. If I was looking for my DVD remote control, I would have used it in the last 2 days, so it would be in the top two layers. If I wanted a jumper, it would be in a lower layer because it's been bloody hot for the last few months. Obviously, my room can only be messy enough to actually develop strata for a couple of days because then the whole thing becomes rather dangerous and unstable and then I tend to go on an insane tidying rampage. I can then keep it tidy until I'm in a hurry and looking for something, when I have a tendency to hurl things about madly and then we're back to square one. Otherwise known as 'light ground cover'. Where there's a little mess that would be the work of five minutes to clean up, but you can't be arsed. Then the whole thing begins again. It's a sad fact, but if I'm still a messy bastard at my age, I think there's no help for me really.

Huh, I was so busy multitasking that I actually watched at least half an old episode of Baywatch. I've just tuned in to the end credits. Sung by The Hoff himself, I believe: "you've got to reach up when you're caught in the current of love!" Heh. The thing that I can't help but notice is that one of the lifeguards is completely tiny. Shoni, her name is. How can she possibly rescue anyone? One fattie and she's dragged to the bottom. Swept away by the 'current of love'. That little red float thing just isn't going to cut it.