Challenged

I think I’m a pretty smart person.  Just prior to entering junior high school, I was given an IQ test and scored surprisingly high.   Jump ahead several decades and we arrive at today, where I find myself with a rapidly growing list of things that I find challenging.

The items on this list are deceptively simple.  But shouldn’t a really smart person be able to figure this stuff out?  It makes me wonder if that IQ test was all a sham. Or maybe the authorities that administered it should have also administered a more useful “Life Skills” test that would send up a red flag indicating the need for remedial learning so that Kathy could function more effectively in middle age.

An abbreviated list of skills that have recently challenged me include (but are not limited to) the following:

1.              Cleaning the dried batter wedged inside the waffle maker

2.            Figuring out which *!?#* smoke detector is beeping in my house

4.              Removing mascara. Completely. All of it.

5.             Folding a king sized fitted sheet.

7.             5th grade math word problems

While I’m at it, I should start a sub-list of things that qualify more as “frustratingly unattainable”, such as:

a.            Finding a good radio station

b.            Performing a spontaneous cartwheel over the age of 45

c.            Navigating traffic at school pick up

And last but certainly not least —

d.            Watching a television show with my child while successfully dodging all commercials that will either scare the crap out of her (just prior to bedtime usually) or those that require an on-the-fly and age-appropriate explanation of erectile dysfunction.  Even with my cat-like reflexes and lightening fast DVR remote, I continue to lose in the television commercial wars.

will be victorious over every one of these challenges. Eventually. I will not, however, be taking another IQ test. I’ll just stick with the number they gave me back in 6th grade I think.

2 thoughts on “Challenged

  1. You’re thinking about the waffle maker thing in the wrong way, grasshopper. We are not meant to get all the dried batter out, only to serenely pick at it (never yelling) using various pointy things, thereby distracting us from worldly concerns. It’s a zen thing. Like cleaning the wax out of a menorah. And far better than picking one’s toenails, though perhaps I overshare.

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