I’ll be honest. Focus has never been my strong point.
When I was younger, I loved restaurant dining because I eavesdropped on so many great conversations while listening to what was going on at the table where I was seated. Well, sorta listened.
As a random thinker, I was so pleased when the term multi-tasking was created to legitimize my penchant for chasing numerous shiny objects simultaneously and catching none. But, if I claimed I was multi-tasking, I sounded sophisticated and overworked rather than clueless and disorganized.
Early in my marriage, my husband figured out that my multi-tasking occasionally led to disastrous results including saucepan bottoms burned off when I forgot about the water boiling for tea on the electric range.
But as a young mother and working wife, this talent for multi-tasking became an asset, if not a necessity. I could drive the kids to baseball practice, plan the next day’s meeting, and grade papers all within the space of a coffee break.
Oh sure, there were still occasional mishaps when I was trying to talk on my early 21st century handheld speaker phone while driving my stick shift and drinking Slim-Fast. That was one of those “I really didn’t want to wear this outfit, turn around to home days.”
But now that I can euphemistically call myself a mid-life boomer, multi-tasking seems to be a practice that I should shed like those extra wavers attached to my upper arms. Focus is advised by the aging brain expert. And, I have noticed more gas tank caps dangling for miles, credit cards left to be shared by all at the checkout stands, and water running on the locust tree overnight or several nights if truth be told.
So, I’m focusing on focusing from now on. Consequently, I’ll end this so that I can text a message before the car needs to be shifted into third and my latte gets too cold.