Efficiency.
I fight it.
Must be my latent teenage self, but I rebel against the inclination like a parent hollering at me to put away my shoes.
Except now I'm the one doing the hollering.
If I were efficient, I would find the time to do all the things my adult ADD (sorry; that's 'multi-tasking') brain is telling me I should be doing instead of the thing I am doing.
If I were efficient, I could more effectively slack when it's time to slack. But instead I'm in a constant state of semi-rebellion. I'm set against the legion of ideas, tasks, day-dreams, wish-fulfillment and downright requirements that press on me, most of which I would like to accomplish but because none of these time-leeching entities will co-operate and line up into an order of operations, I'm at a loss.
Why won't they line up? Because I treat them all like bee-ootiful butterflies, flitting by, catching my foolish eye.
Perhaps this is the true reason I can't grow up.
