I zone. I do. I think it’s a defense mechanism.
I do have a highly developed very short-term memory that dissipates come of the social embarrassment of having to admit that I just drifted away there.
I can remember verbatim about the last 6 or 7 words said.
This means that when The Husband says, “You weren’t listening. What did I just say?”
I can parrot back the last sentence. Perfectly, but with no idea of context or the response required.
The Husband calls it my veils of Salome. He says you can see the veils of perception close one by one across my eyes.
My children know this too, which is why they resort to shouting my given name at about 300 decibels right next to my eardrum.
Some of my colleagues have very expensive headphones and listen away to pounding muzak to drown out everyone else. They get away with not knowing what is going on.
I don’t. I am thinking of buying some headphones just to pretend.
The truth is that the sky could fall on my head and I probably wouldn’t notice.
I am in the zone.
It’s my happy place, my zen state.
Interrupt it at your not insignificant expense.