Multitasking: Part One

As The Blog types this...

(Is the act of entering text onto a computer still called "typing?" I can never be sure. I still call C.D.s and full catalog iTunes™ downloads "records" and "albums." I still "dial" my telephone and "tape" TV shows on my DVR. Even though I am fully aware that that is not accurate. I'm pretty sure that I have never called a refrigerator an "icebox." And, I only call aluminum foil "tin foil" when describing the hats worn by Tea Baggers.)

Wait! What was I talking about?

Sorry, I'm doing six things at once right now, so I'm a little distracted.

Oh! Right!

As The Blog types this...

The Blog is multitasking.

There are two printers grinding away, printing worksheets, attendance forms, photos and such that Mrs. Blog requires for her classroom, tomorrow.

There is a batch of "Chex Mix™" in the oven, (stir every 15 minutes for 1 and a half hours @ 250 degrees.)

A pot of tea is boiling for tomorrow's pitcher of iced tea.

A business email requires an "urgent" response.

As does the messages via Facebook from an old friend.

And, any minute now, Mrs. Blog, who suffers from a painful and debilitating illness, will wake up moaning, needing her legs and back massaged.

And, I am having my evening smoke and evening dram of scotch. Which might not count on a multitasking list.

So, multitasking.

The PC feels like he does that a lot.

But, he doesn't feel like he is very good at it.

And, The Blog has some thoughts about multitasking. But, tonight, he has reached his limit.

He can only handle so much multitasking .

The kids, today, seem to be really good at multitasking.

So maybe it's a generational thing.

Maybe The PC is just to old to keep up.

Or...

Maybe, that isn't the problem.

The timer is going off. I've got to go stir the Chex Mix™ and pour the tea.

*BRB*

Okay, I'm back. Where was I?

Shit.

It will come to me. Probably as I am falling asleep.

Until then...

It seems appropriate that tonight's Roy Zimmerman song should be one of his rare, non-political numbers.

A commentary on the aging of my generation.

So, join with me, will you?

Turn on.

Tune in.

Drop Prilosec.

And groove to...

"Psychedelic Relic."