I seem incapable of doing only one thing at a time. I usually am reading three or four novels at once. Or rather rather reading some of them and listening to some of them on CD.
And, although I’m trying to clean out my old clothes, I can’t just focus on the clothes. My apartment is now filled not only with piles of clothes ready for Good Will, but also piles of books for the library and yarn and fabric sorted to either save or toss.
It’s not that I can’t focus on one thing at a time; it’s as though I’m compelled to focus on several things at once. Maybe it’s because I have so little outside stimulation in my life that this is the way I keep myself stirred up. Maybe it’s because I just get easily bored. Maybe I’ve discovered another psychological disorder.
Or maybe I just like the unlikely connections that wind up being made — because statistical probability becomes more possible the more factors you have factored in. Or maybe I like to give synchronicities every chance to synchronize.
For example, as I’m dealing with the creepy horn worms that are invading my tomato plants and I’m reading Gaiman and Pratchett’s Good Omens and also reading Inamorata (a book I discovered on an online book club to which I belong), the three activites become connected — not only by a word, but by all of its nuances of meaning. And then, of course, there’s that three again.
creepy crawlies (the yucky horn worms)
Mr. Crawley (a Fallen Angel in Good Omens
Mina Crawley (the strange and beautiful psychic in Inamorata)
Now, do you think that might mean that snake “W” will son be crawling away??