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Reading: The River King by Alice Hoffman. Never read
anything of hers before. I like it.
Watching: Boston Public. Damn, that show is good. Listening: Babylon and On by Squeeze. Drinking: Grape Crack, to me and Colleen. Known the rest of the world over as Sugar-Free Grape Kool-Aid. This stuff rocks.
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So it's about 9:15 Monday night, and I've just got home from a visit to the post office that's open until midnight. Call me crazy, but I kind of like the camaradarie of the after-hours post office on tax day. There's just something about that all-in-this-together mentality. When I lived in Los Angeles, I walked to the closest post office at about 7:00 on tax day and found five other people standing around staring at a sign that indicated which post offices were actually open, because this one wasn't. Apparently everybody had something else really important to do that night, so I took everyone's tax returns plus a grad school application to the 24-hour post office by the airport. I don't know what on earth possessed these people to trust me with their taxes, but they did, and I delivered them. So anyway. As the people on the notify list are already aware, I had three state tax returns to complete: Pennsylvania, because I lived and worked there until May; Kansas, because I live here now and worked here for a couple of months last fall; and Missouri, because I work there now. And it should surprise no one, especially those who read the last entry, that I put off doing these tax returns until 5:30 this evening. Whatever. Deadlines don't mean much to me anyway. The fact is, I was expecting a refund from all three states, and Departments of Revenue don't tend to get too upset if you're late asking for money they owe you. (Not that I'm suggesting anyone ignore the deadline, no sirree.) I did the Missouri return first, and it went swimmingly. Then I turned to the Kansas return, and it instructed me that if I were filing in multiple states, I needed to complete those other states first and then come back to Kansas. Okay. So I turn to my Pennsylvania return, and it tells me -- wait for it -- to complete all other states first and then come back to Pennsylvania. Bit of a paradox, really. So. Approximately an hour later, after following some sage advice from Rob, I wrote out the envelopes, mixed and matched my W-2's (five of them, thankyouverymuch), stuffed them, sealed them, stamped them, and headed to the car, where I popped Squeeze's Babylon and On into the tape deck (and that would be the actual tape I received as a Christmas present from my brother in 1987 -- who says I can't keep track of stuff?), and drove to the big-ass post office with what must have been half the county. And because I was in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, I got in line for the drive-up boxes, just assuming that because everyone else was driving up to them too, someone somewhere along the line was confident they would be collecting from them before midnight.
 So the real-life reaction to my big ADD revelation has been mixed, at best, ranging from slight empathy to a dismissive "Oh, you don't have that" to out-and-out hysterical laughter. And part of me understands all those reactions, because like I said, I probably would have had them too at one point. But the other part of me is kind of annoyed, frankly. I suppose it's a lot to ask of people to accept that adults do in fact have ADD, and it's probably even more to ask of people to accept that maybe, just maybe, I do happen to struggle with this. I mean, yes, it would be nice to point to it and say, there, that's the reason why I can't get organized at work and why I procrastinate about everything and why I can't keep my apartment clean and why I was an underachiever at school my entire life and why I only ever barely meet deadlines and why I can't get up in the morning and why I can't get to sleep at night. Yes. I would like to have a reason for that other than that I'm lazy and I don't apply myself enough and I don't pay enough attention and I don't work hard enough and I don't care enough and all the other reasons I've heard over and over my entire life. It would be nice, and I don't think I should be dismissed for feeling that way. I am, however, not looking for an excuse. If it turns out that I really am just lazy and I really just don't apply myself, then that will be fine, and I will figure out how to deal with it once and for all. Either way, I guess. Either way, I will figure out how to deal with it, once and for all.
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