A few weeks ago on Facebook, my brother asked me to take one of those goofy tests, “What’s Your Mental Disorder?” I took the test. When I told my husband the result, we both had a good laugh. But judging by how my day went yesterday, it may not be that funny.
I’ve told my family repeatedly that we’re not getting anymore pets. In my anti-pet speech, I’ve pointed out that of our five pets, I only wanted two of them. Now that our nest is kid-empty, I’d like to travel with Dad more often, and pets make that more difficult. Plus, I’m allergic to cats and dogs. So, the family was as surprised as I was, that I almost took in another pet. What led to this lapse in my sanity?
When I started the day, my errand-running plan included returning some boots to Sports Authority. I successfully did this. Then, on the way out of the store, I saw a clearance rack, and found a Burton ski jacket at 25% off of $29.95. It would be perfect to wear snowshoeing with the snow shoes we got for Christmas. On the way to the register with the jacket, and now with Christmas on my mind, I spotted a clearance table. I ended up buying four items that will be Christmas presents next December, if I remember that I bought them, and where I put them.
Driving home, it popped into my head that I needed stop at PetSmart to buy crickets to feed my son’s frog. It’s complicated. Johnny’s at college, but the frog is here because Kermit (my name for him) wouldn’t have survived by himself over winter break. He started “ribbiting” in our dining room at Thanksgiving because Johnny was flying home at Christmas and obviously couldn’t take the frog on the plane. The next time he drives home, he’ll take Kermit. In the meantime, I buy the crickets and lobby hard to get my husband, the biologist, to feed unwanted Kermit because even though I can feed him, it creeps me out.
With the crickets hopping around in their plastic bag, I started driving the last mile home. The next thing I knew, I was taking a right turn into Metro Animal Services.
At the start of the day, when I was eating my breakfast, I had opened the newspaper and there was a photo of a dapper looking dachshund up for adoption. One of our “wanted pets” is a dachshund that we have partial custody of (more about that in another blog). I’d called John and read him the orphan dachshund’s description. He told me we’d talk about it when he got home.
As I walked up to the shelter’s door, I convinced myself that I wasn’t even going to look at the dachshund, I just wanted to ask if he got along with cats and other dogs, and since it was on my way home this would be easier than calling.
The woman at the counter got right to the point, and asked if I’d like to adopt a dog. I blurted out maybe, that I already had two dogs, but that I’d seen a dachshund up for adoption in the paper. Before I could finish my shaky explanation, she told me that he’d already been adopted, so I was safe. Boy, did she have my number!
My kids’ reactions to this story were along the lines of “what were you thinking?” The girl who we share partial dachshund custody with understood perfectly. My husband was a little disappointed.
Later that night I went to open my Facebook, and while I waited for it to come up, I reviewed my day. Uh-oh, maybe that Mental Disorder test wasn’t so goofy. It said that my mental disorder was ADHD.
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