Foggy With a Chance of ?

I was working on a post about what I did this past weekend, but I had to delete it and save it for another time. It just wasn’t happening. My mind feels like it's swimming in a big warm bowl of oatmeal. And let me tell ya. It's a slow swim.

What I'm trying to get at (somehow) is, today, I'm experiencing Fibro Fog. According to doctors, it's the inability to concentrate in fibromyalgia patients. This time they picked a good name for it. Oh yes. It's as weird and annoying as it sounds. As I type, I'm chugging down a large mug of lukewarm coffee and popping mini chocolate chip cookies in my mouth, trying to get my mind out of this funk. Yes, that's how great of a multitask-er I am.

It's not just that I can't think straight. I mean, there's that. But then there's barely being able to focus my eyes on one thing at a time. There's also having moments of, wait why am I in the office? Did I go to the bathroom today? When did we get a dog?!

Yesterday, my plan was to cook dinner. Chicken tacos! When I came to the kitchen to start slicing the chicken, which was defrosting in a cold bowl of water in the sink, I realized that there was a hole in the ziploc bag, and the chicken was swimming in water. Ew. I tossed it immediately. Gross contaminated chicken. Mgo came in, opened his mouth to tell me I was just being a paranoid maniac, then picked up his keys and said, "Okay, where are we going for dinner?"

In the car, Mgo proceeded to tell me about a dilemma he was experiencing. It was a scheduling conflict, and he wanted to know what I thought he should do about it. He told me about the situation the first time, and then asked me what I thought. I literally had no idea he already told me. 

"So you can't fly on Friday because..."
"No...I have to fly on Thursday," he said.
"Okay, because of the conference."
"No," he said.

So he explained it to me again.

"So?" He waited.
"The conference is on Sunday?"
"No, Tam. It's not a conference."

He finally turned his head and looked at me with the “is she okay?” look that he tried to cover up.  Such a familiar look.

I think I finally got it the third time.

Now, can anyone remind me when the last time I washed my hair was? Anyone?