Now there’s a word. Discombobulated. It’s jumble of letters and sounds beautifully mimics it’s meaning.
discombobulate |ˌdiskəmˈbäbyəˌlāt|
verb [ with obj. ] humorous
disconcert or confuse (someone): this attitude totally discombobulated Bruce | (as adj. discombobulated) : he is looking a little pained and discombobulated.
DERIVATIVES
discombobulation noun
ORIGIN mid 19th cent.: probably based on discompose or discomfit.
I am so discombobulated right now–I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. I have emotional highs and lows with a graduating 5th grader. I have scheduling wackiness. Routines are changing. Extra stuff is being layered on top of the typical. Other stuff is over and I get a bit confused. Not unusual for me to stand in the middle of a room right now, squeeze my head and wonder where I should be and who I should be taking with me. I agree to things I have to later back out of and I decline things I could have accepted. I am a hot mess. Every day I have to make a list of things to do. Sometimes I head out without the list. That’s always entertaining. What keeps me in the game? I bow down to the folks responsible for my calendar app that allows me to bleep myself with reminders of where I should be and when. That app is the only reason I’m not laying on the floor in the fetal position.
I’d like to add a disclaimer about my spazziness. This level of discombobulation is not actually a big deal for people who are Type Freaking A. My mayhem is barely pulse-raising for them. But for type PPDD (procrastinators who are painfully disorganized and dreamy) this kind of stuff stretches us to our limits.
And then there’s the writing. I’ve got not one, but two projects, that I’m hot on the tail of. Left to my own devices, I could spend a full eight hours curled up with each of them. Right now I find myself working furiously in my head while I try to organize piles of boy shoes, stay stocked with enough food to feed the little buggers, get the car serviced, remember to water my plants (epic fail) and dodge falling aluminum as the guys put new gutters on the house. Someday I will hang that hummingbird feeder I bought in the spring. They’ll still be here in November, right? *head thunk*
Discombobulated. Seriously.
And then there are the nightmares. Some people have really legit, cool nightmares. Not me. Last night I dreamt that even though I ordered the graduation cake and paid for it–I forgot to pick it up. The party was going off without a hitch and BAM! No cake. And some of you might be thinking–not the end of the world–but obviously you’ve never met my mother. She’s normally a pretty fabulous gal, but she can turn into Mean Jean the Cake Machine. I kid you not. This woman has bakery issues. So, there was that, but that was not my first grad party nightmare. I know I should sweat the small stuff. But it’s my unconscious mind. It never listens.
So, at least for the time being (by time being–I mean at least until my 9yo graduates from college) I’m going to be a bit discombobulated. I’ll try to get use to it, but you know how us Type PPDD’s are. I’d rather spend my time dreaming of the personal assistant/house elf that would save me from myself.
I think I’ll name him Bob.
Anybody else discombobulated? Any other Type PPDD’s out there? Don’t leave me blowing in the wind alone. LOL! If you’re Type A–feel free to rub it in, but know you’ll never qualify for House Elf assistance–karma is a *bleep*
Love you all, know matter what type you are.
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Discombobulated is my middle name. You can do this! Sending hugs to help pull you through. <3
LOL! I hear you–and I imagine I’ll figure it out before I die. *grin*