I hate to admit this but I am becoming a worry wort. Driving home from the house I work at I had this gut wrenching feeling that I forgot to turn off the gas on the stove. I called the house and no one answered. I was panicking, their house was going to blow up. The police would investigate me to see if I am a suspect for the death of a father, child and their slobbery boxer. I started thinking of my testimony to the investigators and hoping that they would believe it was an honest mistake. I called again no one answered. I started thinking of how my life as I knew it would be ruined. Poor joey who has had to put up with the silly things I overlook or forget now has to live with this, something that had I been paying attention would have been avoided. I thought about how I would never end up having children because I would not be able to live with myself for what I had done. My phone started ringing it was them. Thank goodness their house hadn't blown up yet. I quickly asked them to check the burners. They were off. I was beyond relieved. That moment I realized I am going crazy and could probably benefit from some help. Then I drove past the art museum to see a big advertisement for a an exhibition coming next week that I about peed my pants in the car over. PICASSO in black and white. Good thing my ADD let me quickly move on from evaluating my psychiatric issues to what really matters. A Picasso exhibition is coming and I am going to be there
everyday feasting my eyes upon it... and buying the catalog raisonné. All is well.