On having the concentration span of a gnat.

Stress comes in many shapes and sizes. Right now mine is in the shape of a house. People move house all the time. There's nothing original about mine, but it is taking over my world at the moment.

But it has, for me, highlighted the side-effect of this level of stress - having a concentration span reduced to that of a gnat. I do have a rudimentary understand of the neuroscience: I know that all the thinking bits of my brain are firing at the same time and finding it confusing trying to talk to each other. But does that help me live with it? Does it, hell!

I know I could be more constructive if only I could complete one task before beginning another.  But there I am sorting out a cupboard, when I remember I need to give my new address on my travel insurance people. So off I go to find the list (which list? I now have several, some of which - like my brain - fail to talk to each other). While I'm there I notice I still haven't found anyone who might like my garden tools. So I settle with the phone … and when it's bedtime I wonder - why there is stuff all over the bedroom floor? 

How am I meant to complete anything? How am I meant to remember where I left the wretched lists in the first place? 

Then - I manage to sit down for five minutes. This, I tell myself, is the moment I shall arrange the transfer of my Internet. I phone the provider … I am in a queue. I'll try tomorrow. Tomorrow comes. I try again, and this time wait in the queue … and wait … and then, oh joy, I am speaking to a person and I've come through to technical support and not home-moving … but I'm transferred … why didn't I make myself a coffee before I began this? Fortified, I might have stood a chance of concentrating in through a process that somehow took over half an hour. 

But at least it's one thing I can tick off the list. If only I could find the right list …