Observant

 Sometimes I am too observant. Seeing more than is needed to function on a daily basis. I know as we age: sixty plus, we can all bemoan our lack of focus and concentration. 

For instance, I am heading to the garage freezer to dig out something for dinner. On the way I observe a pile of weird something on the floor of grandson #1's room. I hurry in hoping the cat did not once again "play" with whatever reptile or amphibian is living in a not quite cat proof habitat. Turns out to be a soggy sock and a few random sticks. I nose around observing dirty socks, empty chip bags, dishes and silverware. Holding my prizes all in one hand I wander back to the kitchen to throw away the trash. Traveling to the laundry room, again, I deposit the soggy sock and other smelly clothing items I had observed in the bedroom. Trudging back to the kitchen I pass the boys bathroom,  I observe the spigot is dripping and the rugs are balled up in a damp mess. Back to the laundry room, thereby observing the dry clothes in the dryer and the wet ones in the washing machine. Toss the clean dry into an empty clothes basket. (deal with that later) I put the wet stuff into the dryer, even remember to start the darn thing.

 Garsh darn it if I'm not weary.  I sit at the bar in the kitchen, sipping hot coffee, wondering what the heck to make for dinner