On a Zoom call with my wife and the kid's psychologists. Wife is in a conference room at work. We are reviewing a 20+ page report of kid's observed behavior. Dead boring and anxiety provoking in equal measure. About thirty minutes into the meeting, I notice my image in the corner fidgeting and wonder how long I've been doing so. Worse, my chair creaks loudly, and it seems any burst of sound brings the image of the noisemaker to the fore. I'm wondering how often I popped up on the other participants' screens, just rocking or fixing my glasses or fussing with my collar. To them I probably look like I'm doing Chair Yoga*.
One of the shrinks describes an ADHD symptom the kid exhibits, and I startle when she asks me why I laughed. I didn't know I'd laughed. I say that's what I was like when I was fourteen and I've been diagnosed with ADHD too. Both shrinks widen their eyes and give their version of the Home Alone face, like "NO! say it ain't so," and it's probably because they're used to dealing with children that they make such a show of it, the pretend shock and disbelief, but I feel attacked anyway.
* What's with the Disqus ads for Chair Yoga and Wall Pilates? Are those real things? To me it just looks like "passive item/feature of a home" + "active workout program" = questionable exercise for super lazy people. Now there are ads featuring shapely women's buttocks in colorful tights: "Achieve Perfect Thighs Instantly! Fanka Body Sculpt Leggings" All I have to do is put on pants? That's a bridge too far, you ask me. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to do my End Table Crossfit. Heirloom Ottoman Tae Bo. Shoji Screen Step Aerobics. Coatrack Gyrotonics. Muntin Prancercise. Garden Folly Jazzercise. One of those.
Kalashnikov, "Ødelæg Og Hærg (Destroy and Ravage)", Denmark, 1984:
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