Imagine yourself in a multiplex movie theater. Curiously, no walls separate the half-dozen theaters that form the multiplex. Miraculously, you are watching six different screens all at once, thoroughly understanding and enjoying every scene, word, character.
Welcome to ADHD.
[You in the Real World, be sure to click on the red underlined hyperlinks! And know these accounts are true … without exaggeration!]
Blackie, whispers Screen Three, we screens blew last week’s column.
“What a surprise,” I reply, deadpan. “How so, Three?”
When we told you people would understand that the exchanges between you and your oldest brother, Mike, were from seven years ago –
“While his 63rd birthday, on the other hand, truly was last week.”
– we were sure folks would understand the elapsed time frame.
“And now you’re saying they didn’t?”
Right, sighs Two. And because of our mistake, your readers are concerned about you.
“Please tell me this isn’t happening AGAIN. We had the same problem a few months ago when I wrote about my father passing – back in 2006 – and readers thought it had just happened!”
Forgive us, Boss, pleads Five. I did not factor in that the “Real Worlders” – those poor single-screen souls – would be so kind, caring and clueless.
“How do we correct this? I cannot revamp the earlier column and ask people to re-read it.”
Pipes up Three, Tell them in THIS week’s column that you followed – eventually – the excellent advice of your brother. Tell them that even though Blackwells rarely see doctors, you DID go and have an MRI done.
Really, says Four, you probably should add that the MRI found damage and you wisely opted for corrective surgery. This will put everybody’s heart at ease.
“Should I tell readers I still walk off-balance and tilt to the right?”
Screen One rubs his chin. Leave that info out. Your chiropractor’s working on the gyroscopics.
“Anything else I should tuck in this week’s column?”
Well, whispers Two, you could tell them that recently re-reading your brother’s ancient e-mail about his growing strength and range of motion encourages you to duplicate his purchase of exercise equipment.
So I go online and look up Mike’s special $45 chin-up bar from Gold’s Gym. Then my beautiful brown-eyed bride –
Bodacious Babe of Basement Bargains! brags Three.
– finds essentially the same model selling at the Aldi grocery store for the pauper’s price of $12.
How ’bout them apples, Mikey! goads Six, who understands we are a safe physical distance from my brother.
The photo on the box shows a husky black chap effortlessly hoisting his thick frame skyward as he performs pull-ups and dips, muscular smile in place.
What is a “muscular” smile? wonders Five.
Though the picture does not show the entire arrangement, I surmise the bar is supported by the door frame molding on the opposite side of the wall. I will be the next Ah-nold upon assembly of just five pre-drilled pieces.
Five improperly pre-drilled pieces, notes One. Bet the factory built this on a Monday.
“Drills and I go deep,” I reassure screens, cordless spinning madly in my hand.
“You’re not using a tool, are you?” anxiously calls my bride from the kitchen.
Ninety full minutes later, five “easy assemble” pieces are beaten, bent and bashed into place. I run –
Wobble, actually, corrects Four.
– up the basement steps, crash into the wall cornering a hallway and stand in front of the office door frame chosen to bear my weight and build my body. Towel over her shoulder, Miss Laura passes by, eyes wide, wishes me well, sheds clothes and steps into the shower.
“Nope,” I reply. “Today is the day I catch up to Muscular Mikey.” Giving one test tug on the chin-up bar and feeling confident about its ability to hold me, I pull myself toward the cosmos.
Something explodes in my face. I fall backward, landing on my heels, as chin-up bar thumps me in the chest as I bang off a wall. “Whoa!” I shout in surprise.
Shower snaps off. “Babe? You OK?” An unclad and wide-eyed beauty flies to my side, dripping on the carpet.
Clever ruse! cheers Three.
Still gripping bar handles, I survey shattered plastic molding above the doorway, eye yanked nails and space dust and wood powder surrounding me, then look at my bride as I laugh aloud in joy.
“Still have my teeth!”
Postscript: Last week, “ADHD Powered” notched two full years. However, excellent friend and column mentor Robert Hunt still laughs at the way I, a blog novice, misread the flood of “reader responses” I thought were real ….
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And a family-safe sampling (also presented here exactly the way they were written) from anonymous others ….
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If you are unsure of the date when you want to kiss the girl, these are the steps on how to make and do a baking soda hot sitz bath.
Laughs Screen Three, Hungry, Black? No shortage of spam and cheese!
* * * * *
I can’t make ’em the REGULAR way!
Three cheers for this involved mom!