At this stage of life, I spend a lot of time looking for things. (glasses, keys, pens, etc.) One of our readers said he thought of me when he read the following. Some of you other “old timers” might also identify with it.

HAS ANYBODY SEEN MY CAR KEYS?

Saturday afternoons are my favorite time of the week. This afternoon was no exception. It’s the perfect time for me to write. Everyone is out of the house. No interruptions from daughters wanting me to be their personal taxi service or demands to “please tell my sister to stay out of my room.” Just a few precious hours of rare alone time, perfect to get in the mood to write my column. No distractions.

This week’s column was going to be an insightful commentary about the challenges of attention deficit disorder, which afflicts many people as they approach old age. As I got ready to write, I looked down, and that’s when I noticed it: a large orange stain on the carpet by my desk. How long has that been there?

So, I went downstairs to get the stain remover. When I got to the laundry room, I noticed a load of clean clothes in the dryer. I decided I might as well fold them. Before I could get started, I had to go to the kitchen to get a laundry basket; that’s when I discovered that someone had made an omelet and had decided to leave all the evidence strewn around the kitchen. As I started to clean the stove top, I noticed I was out of paper towels. So, I went into the laundry room for some paper towels, where I noticed a plaid sock in the crevice between the dryer and the washer.

In order to retrieve the sock, I had to push aside the dryer, which is when I discovered how filthy it was behind these appliances. I wondered if we’d ever cleaned that space in the 12 years we’ve lived in this house. So, I disconnected the washer and dryer and pushed them out into the room so I could access the space behind them. What a disaster area. There were more socks, a flip flop, four pens, a library card, a stapler, and my daughter’s 3 ^rd grade drawing of Santa Claus and eight flying pandas pulling Santa's RV. Don't ask.

I went to the kitchen to get a broom and dustpan from the bathroom closet. That’s when I noticed we were out of toilet paper. So, I went to the garage to get the extra toilet paper rolls. I saw that the garage overhead light was out. I’ll get back to that. So, I grabbed ten rolls of toilet paper for the master bathroom. Then, as I was trouncing up the stairs, I tripped over a pair of cowboy boots. Ten toilet paper rolls went flying in eleven different directions. Annoyed, I grabbed the boots and flung them back into the front hall closet, where they belonged. When I closed the door to the front hall closet, I noticed that the handle was loose. Got to get a screwdriver to tighten it.

I opened the drawer in the kitchen where we keep the screwdriver. Normally it’s right there next to the pens, post-it notes, paper clips, scissors, calculators, locks we no longer have the combination to, and spare keys from cars we sold before our kids were born. But no screwdriver. The drawer was a complete mess. Time someone organized it. Oh well, why not.

I dumped the contents all over the kitchen counter and onto the floor. One pen rolled all the way to the cabinet door under the sink where we keep the kitchen waste basket. That’s when I noticed a greenish toxic ooze dripping from the cabinet where the waste basket is stored. I slowly opened the cabinet door to discover that nobody had bothered to empty the overflowing kitchen waste basket, which had even more greenish toxic ooze dripping from it.

I started to take the over-stuffed, greenish toxic ooze-dripping trash bag to the outdoors trash bin, when I said to myself ENOUGH! I was getting nothing done. Forget it. Is it my job to do the laundry, put away other people’s dirty dishes, change every burned out light bulb, clean up after other people’s encrusted omelets, empty the toxic trash, and remove alien life forms from behind the washing machine? After all, at last count there were four people living in this house.

So, I just stopped. Defiantly, willfully, I plodded back upstairs to my office to return to my column on attention deficit disorder. I sat down at my desk, raised my fingers to the keyboard ... and that’s when I noticed it. A large orange stain on the carpet. Oh, crap.