I am such a space case; and I have been for most of my life.
I was cooking dinner. Granted, I was cooking a lot....which is my habit: cook up a storm and then eat left overs for a couple days. I was baking a chocolate cake, making a chicken noodle soup, making a salad, making a pasta casserole, frying up pork chops and fried potatoes....busy day in the kitchen.
My four year old loves to sit in the kitchen with me while I cook. He was sitting at our island with a cup full of flour. I had given him pepper and other "colorful" spices so that he could mix things. He also got a small glass of milk and a bowl, knife (butter variety), spoon and fork. He was mixing up a storm...making quite a bit of goo. He had flower on his body from head to toe. It was all over the floor. He was chatting with me the whole time and we were having a blessed time in the kitchen.
I was frying the chops, and realized I needed another skillet. I walked around, cleaning up the kitchen a bit and then walked over to the refrigerator. I stood there, in the cool air, wondering what I was looking for.
"oh yeah," I said to self, "you need a skillet." I don't know what possessed me to look for a skillet in the refrigerator.
But, what is even worse than that, is that just as I was shutting the door to go and get a skillet, I spied a clean skillet sitting in the refrigerator, ready for chops...
Click....click....click....the cogs in my brain are barely moving some days