At my age, the avalanche of distractions are causing trouble. I squeeze sunscreen on my toothbrush because all the tubes littered around my sink look alike. Wait, was that even my toothbrush? When I accidentally used body wash for hair conditioner this morning, I wondered how often I do that because it does not set off an alarm bell like sunscreen does inside your mouth. My life was manageable in college because I had only one distraction: girls. If I walked into a room, I never had to wonder why. I was looking for girls. Today I could be looking for a pen, a battery, or a light bulb. Even if I could remember which one, what is it for? Do I need a battery for the flashlight because I need to check the attic for a water leak? Or do I need it for the television remote so I can confirm all the candidates older than me are still alive before I cast my primary vote. Maybe I need a pen to fill out the ballot. Maybe I need the light bulb to drop down a mole hole in my yard because Jo Jo Siwa’s late father said flowers grow from bulbs. The washing machine sounds like it is going to explode, so I will fix that and be right back to finish this posting with a punch line.


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