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The Problem with Focus

For the last several months, my brain has been…mushy, for lack of a better word.

I stare at empty Word documents, unable to start writing the articles that constitute my livelihood.

I look at the piles of dishes or laundry and almost can’t remember how to get started on cleaning or folding.

I have to ask my kids to repeat themselves multiple times when they ask me questions. (I will admit, this is in part because my youngest tends to swallow his words, particularly when he knows I will probably say no to whatever request he has, and in part because my oldest likes to pose head-scratchers like “Would you rather fight 100 chicken-sized zombies, or 10 zombie-sized chickens?” and then argues with me as to why my preference is wrong).