Driven to Distraction

I could accomplish so much more if I weren't so easily distracted.  It's not that one chore leads to another; it's that while doing one chore, I see something else that needs doing, stop the first task mid stride, take on the new something, and may or may not get back to the original project.  There used to be a cartoon in the funny papers, "Family Circle," in which one of the kids would be sent out on an errand, and it would show by a dotted line the circuitous route taken to get from here to there.  (There may still be such a cartoon.  I wouldn't know.  I haven't taken or seen a newspaper for over five years.  If something really important happens out in the world, some concerned citizen will tell me.  But I digress...what was I saying about distraction?)  My own path yesterday (every day!) would have shown a series of loops and zigzags as I muddled through clearing out stuff stuffed into a corner of the living room.  I have all the instincts of a pack rat, bordering on becoming a hoarder.  Almost everything that comes my way gets set aside somewhere.  I might need that someday, or someone else might be able to use that.  So-and-so gave me that, so I can't throw that out.  I don't have time to look at that magazine right now, but there'll come a rainy day (or several months of rainy days) when I'll go through it for craft projects or recipes that sound good at the moment, but I may never make.  Magazines are my downfall, and I let all subscriptions lapse five years ago, realizing that I still have piles and stacks and bags and drawers full of the darned things, some still in their mailing wrappers.  Of course, while cleaning, I had to sit periodically and go through a handful of magazines lest I miss some jewel tucked in those pages...detour.  Going down the hall to put something away, I noted that the bathroom needed a swipe...detour.  Finding a bucket of coins, I had to count out and wrap hundreds of pennies; all six dollars and fifty cents worth...detour.  Before taking several photo albums downstairs for storage, I had to look again at dear faces and relive fun times...detour.  While making the bed in the guest room, remembered that I hadn't posted a morning entry to the journal...detour.  Stopped to pick a few weeds on the way to feed the chickens...detour.  I guess it's like somebody or other famous said, "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans."