Why I Hate My Brain

It did it again. About once a year, despite my warnings, my brain leaves the coffee pot in the dishwasher. I mean it tries to make a pot of coffee without the pot in place, which makes a big mess on the countertop that I have to clean up. My brain doesn’t even help. Well, it did it again this morning. It filled the reservoir and scrunched in a filter, scooped in some Folgers, and wandered off to check e-mail.

I suppose a case could be made that I had my head up my ass, would puts my poor half-century-old brain in a highly untenable position. I demur. My brain has a manifest problem with time and place. It’s always somewhere or somewhen else while I’m trying to deal with life’s simplest tasks. It’s rarely here and now.

I’ve done everything that should be expected of a guy, trying to get my brain to focus on the case. I’ve provided clocks and calendars and familiar environments like Home. I’ve furnished manuals like The Power Of Now and The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy. All to no avail.

It does lots of similar things, all the time. For instance, last night it left a burner on the stove on low, so that when I went back for seconds my pea soup had the consistency of bathroom calk. And my brain stubbornly refuses to keep my iPod synced and charged, so I have to do it and it’s not my job.

I’m beginning to think that if my brain continues to refuse to play with the team – let alone think outside the box – I may have to let it go. I’ll have to say Brain, you’re fried. I mean fired. See? It’s not helping me even now. Focus, you distracted brick!

Yeah, I think I’m going to take a meeting with my Mind, to discuss a possible replacement. Preferably something that doesn’t run Windows or caffeine.

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