I Am Through! Dove-Tailing and Rats! What about it?

Look At All Those Dove Tails. Not Me!

 My whole nature, not nature, nature.... but personality, has this unusual flaw that everyone else seems to possess and I don't have it. It's called "dove-tailing" and the more a person develops this talent, the more a person seems to accomplish in a day or evening. I can not do this. CAN'T! No matter how hard I try, it always ends in disaster. I have to go with a project, complete it, and move to the next priority or whatever is on my "do list" for the day. One job or thing at a time. I'm easily a very side-tracked person and that's what gets me in trouble.

Have I Ever Been On The Right Track?

Nope! Not Me!

It doesn't matter how many times I try, I can't do more tasks at any one time. Was it that I was so scattered in my head, that in my young life, I taught myself to actually survive on the method? Simply an honest answer would be yes.... and I suppose it should be in the largest text size, and be bold, and underlined, with an exclamation mark.

Yes!

I can't do the multi-task or multi-track. It turns into a wreak. I could actually die, you know... or hurt myself a little or a lot. My mind is geared to learn, to work, to dream in only one path and that's it!

Today, like many other completely crazy days that I think I can handle with trying to do more than one task at a time, I blow it. I wreak!. I don't follow my own rules.

I was in a hurry today to go help my mother. There's lots of preparation that goes along with getting ready and carrying all the stuff I need for the day. Notebook, computer, IPad thingy, my phone, food, stuff like that plus all my creature chores and household duties. I actually had my cooler, two purses, my computer case, and my blanket.

I tried to make frozen yogurt for breakfast, fix my mom's lighted opal picture (that didn't even come with a light) hahahhah I even cut my finger on it. "Where's your bandaids, mom?" "Upstairs?" "Forget it..."

I need the dog fetch the paper to me. Oh no! I left the dog in her kennel--back to let her out, get the eggs, gather my 50 more pounds of gadgets and run to my mother's house. Ahhh, the back-door is locked again, so I swing all my junk, over to the other-side; which includes this time, my orange swimming bag, my mail, and my extra tablet for writing a blog....I sure don't need any prompts to figure-out what I need to write about. Eh?

Ugggh, all of this is too heavy.  Front door locked on me again and I finally get it open, and out to get the paper that is now too wet to read because the dog did fetch it for me and the goat milk I had fed her ended-up on her dog-lips and then on to the paper. "Here's your paper mom, with dog milk drool and slobbers!" Oh, no I left her heater on last night, or did I? Well it might dry the newspaper, so I set it on the table and my load on the floor.

I did all my chores at home with the help of my dear husband. Actually, he did almost all of them, but I made the yogurt and washed all the things pertaining to milking and yogurt making. Yes, I milked our newly freshened goat and had a little left-overs for one of the mother cats and our beautiful fetching-the-paper-dog.  Oh well, the paper will dry stiff and my mother will be able to read it better. I made my mom's coffee and Oh, No! I didn't say good-bye to my dear husband going on fire-duty and tell him thank-you for all he did for me this morning. I was shaking a'little realizing things are just about to fall apart. I needed to get the coffee ready for my mom. Now, this is a trick, considering I'm Mormon--and active and trying to make coffee is interesting every morning that I'm here. She doesn't even drink two sips, but the coffee has got to be just right. Mom should quit, it's such a waste. I gently tear the bags of sugar and put them in the cup, I open two little containers of creamy stuff and dump them in the sugar box with all the little paper sugar packets belong, instead of the cup. Dump it out and spread all the sugar packets on the counter. Do it! The house is so stinkin' hot all of them will dry stiff and my mom will be able to open the packets of sugar so much more easily, right?

My mom has some breakfast and I just sit down and I hear, "Look!" I didn't stand-up, but just said, "What do you need?" Would you like some more hot sauce?" I definitely didn't get it. But I finally got my back-end outt'a the chair and looked. My husband set a mouse trap that had this very athletic RAT in it. It was a sticky mouse trap and it, the RAT, was sorta' stuck. Noooooo! I don't do rats. It's alive-biting-rat. Oh no! I left my yogurt machine on. I ran home and yes, it was froze-up, literally. Hopefully, I didn't burn-up the motor. I stopped it and ran back to my mom's house, because I knew she'd be freaking-out about the rat. You know, I thought I would just be fine listening to it just flop around, but no...I had this vision of it getting loose and getting even. It would bite me first.

I took a shower this morning, washed my hair and promptly and forgot to brush it. Oh, no I didn't use my lovely powder and Steve is going to flip when he finds out that I used his "Swagger" roll-on deodorant. Well?  I was hurrying.

You know I'm trying not to mention the rat. I told mom if she had a beer I would drink it. I was so flustered. She said she did...okay, I didn't drink her beer, but I was so scared. I had to put on my cowgirl chaps on (metaphor) and get tough. The chaps are next door at my house, and I'm not going over there again! I got a tin-foil turkey pan and a thin piece of cardboard and scooped that big-blood-sucking rat into the pan and screamed like crazy out the "other" back door to the big trash cans. It was literally biting it's way through the tin!

 Here, Kitty-kitty-kitty-KITTY!

Okay, it's another metal..aluminninnn...not tin. But I'm not sure how to spell it at this point! Okay? I'm writing in my blog. I dumped the rat and then went around the house by the birds and just sat there. I heard rustling in the leaves so I walked toward the front door. This back door relocked itself, again. Where are the cats?

 I heard a big truck drive in the driveway and park in front of the house. Was it telepathy? My fire captain to the rescue. No, it was the UPS guy. I was so disappointed I said,"I was happy for a moment until I saw you". I apologized saying that I had a rat-attack and I was hoping that the firemen were coming to rescue me. "I'm so sorry I said that" "I'm really glad to get a present." hahahahah The box wasn't for me, either. I wish he didn't know who I was.

Front door, locked itself, AGAIN! I am locked-out again. I went to the back, back door, that's open and I knew at that point that I needed to go upstairs, because honestly, I didn't want my mom to hear me. I was sick and had to "go" so bad. Note to self: Take-off your bi-focal glasses when descending a long staircase. I knew that, but I didn't and slid all the way down to the bottom sideways.

As I sit and write this I hear the coos of mom's doves that she raises from little eggs... just outside the dining room window, and just a pleasant moment passing and I'm thinking in my mind that they're so relaxing to hear... they start in this sound that is just exactly like "Tickle Me Elmo" laughing. Over and over laughing. They are mocking me. Yeah, like "Mocking Doves" I think they are there just to remind me of my "dovetailing disability."

My Mother's Doves. Yes, she raises Them

This is not the end. I had to see if the rat was still in the trash can. Big mistake. The trash cans are very large plastic containers.  I lifted the lid and leaned it down a little to see if the rat is at the bottom and make sure the rat was not an escapee. Well, surprise me.... the rat was ready and it ran up the trash side and leaped out, right next to my arm. I did a "rat-dance" right there. I turned to see where it was because I was worried it had gone into the house again. No...it was dead on the lawn, concussion maybe. I took it picture of it and as I did ...  it resurrected itself and ran right at me. 

Crazy! The dog watched the whole thing. Where are the mega-million cats when I need them? I'm not rationing goat milk out anymore this week to cats that don't work.

 I'm going to die...I hear another rat flopping around in the kitchen on another one of those tiny, sticky traps. I do... and I'm not looking for it. I'll tell my sister Lori later when she comes at 5:00 p.m. RATS!

BTW: If you by chance see this is a post that is insanely, grammatically incorrect, just figure it's the "day of dread" and I need help. It gets worse, I forgot to take my heart medication today...I didn't even take them to my mothers. MY MOST IMPORTANT THING TO REMEMBER!! Steve calls all this, "spinning" I call this running though life with a heavy coat on my head. I think I'll put my feet-up and feed the livestock at 6:00 p.m. and I'll blog about tonight, tomorrow.