I get it. Clearly my lifestyle has its drawbacks. I forget birthdays. I leave stuff at the dry cleaners for eons, I fall up flights of stairs, I can barely find my pants in the morning, and I’m sure you can tell from my insouciant tone that I’m not about to win any awards for Employee of the Month.
It’s not that I am careless or lazy or disengaged or sloppy or clumsy. It’s more a matter of being painfully and, at times criminally, abstract. I sometimes feel like that which tethers me to the day-to-day is tenuous at best, and that I live in a shadow-world of long plans, vague inferences, and fuzzy grey edges that don’t linger under the bright light. (Want to make me painfully uncomfortable? Force me to make a quick decision or deliver a succinct explanation). I’ll never be quite at ease where I have to answer “yes” or “no” or be entirely comfortable under circumstances where matching socks are necessary.