The Baby May Be Eating My Brain

I have a confession to make.

In the past few days, my attention span has shrunk to the size of a pea. Except when it comes to food…I can obsess about food until I am in tears and begging my husband to please, dear God please, go get me a Kicking Coney from Sonic.

When it comes to everything else however, I find it difficult to concentrate on any given topic for longer than two minutes. At work, I alternate between wanting to sleep on my desk, scouring the internet for nursery ideas and reminding myself that two extra large Oatmeal Cream Pies is enough for one day.

Damn you Little Debbie, and your crack-laced snack cakes.

At home, I look apathetically toward my sentient laundry pile with the faint hope that I’ll feel like tackling it soon. I may cook, but usually forget something important. Who needs vegetables anyway? I tune out whoever is speaking to me after ten words or less, because I’m prone to easy distraction. I don’t mean to, but my poor kids have carried on quite a few one-sided conversations with me this week because my brain acts like easily runs out of gas.

I hope this complete mental degradation ends soon, because my stint as an amnesiac zombie is getting old.

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