Ever experience a day when things are slightly off kilter? When the normal becomes abnormal, often in an almost imperceptible way? The order of the universe is lagging, your controller fails to control and you're thrown a degree (or two) off course. Thought processes and actions seem to be deregulated and your brain refuses to function in a straightforward, logical manner.

If there's a way to mess things up, or confuse them, you'll do it - even with the simplest of endeavors. This condition is exponentiated if you are multi-tasking, and who among us isn't?

It's like you are looking at a farsighted world through a nearsighted lens. Similar to a dog chasing its tail or a hamster running on one of those wheels - going through all the right motions, but getting nowhere. It can happen to the best of us.

It happened to me last week.

It started first thing in the morning, in the shower, but I didn't know it at the time. I wasn't yet aware I was functioning in the fogginess of an off-kilter day.

My circumstance became apparent an hour or so later, when my newly washed hair clumped itself into a greasy mess, as though I'd forgotten to rinse out the conditioner. Which, unfortunately, I had.

I didn't have time to deal with my predicament because I had to taxi a kid to sports practice and satisfy an imminent need for ingredients to make a birthday cake for another one of the people I gave birth to. So I combed through the mass atop my head as best I could and hoped it didn't look as bad as I thought it probably did.

I rushed in and rushed out of the grocery store and thankfully didn't see anyone I knew, because when I got home and took a look-see in the mirror I realized things were worse than I'd thought. I'd forgotten another grooming detail: Makeup. I'm not a super model (not even close) but I don't usually venture to the store without a little mascara and blush. When I realized my mistake, I (well) blushed.

Before I could correct the situation, birthday boy had an imminent need to shower, so I grabbed my makeup kit and headed for the other bathroom. Before I got there, I was waylaid by an email issue and my attention shifted from my face to cyberspace. Foggy days are distracting like that. You don't know if you are coming or going.

The email was coming, but by the time I got it figured out, I was supposed to be going. To the dentist. With another kid. This time, however, I remembered about the makeup. I was in dire need of imminent application.

There was just one issue. I'd carried the kit from one bathroom to...

Where?

So, as I'm yelling at the one kid to brush his teeth, I'm in a frenzy, trying to retrace my steps to find where in the heck I put the makeup, which can't work its magic on my face if it's lost.

On a normal day, I would remember where I'd put the makeup because normally a person keeps track of those sorts of things. But when you are out of sorts, chaos happens. And although you've created it, you are the last to figure it out so you keep getting yourself into these hot little messes, which almost seem to beget one another and multiply the overall frazzlement.

That is the nature of a scattered day - when your brain and your body operate as two separate entities and you are left somewhere in the middle to mop things up. Or to look for makeup, which I did find and I did apply prior to the dentist appointment, which we got to on time. (Whew.)

Afterward, we returned home with a new toothbrush, dental floss and no cavities. The day was taking a turn for the better and I decided to cut my losses. As far as I'm concerned there are a couple of things you can do to reduce the commotion of a foggy day.

You can muscle through it, or you can escape, via a nap. I chose the latter. And I didn't even mess it up. That's almost as good as a new toothbrush and no cavities. But not quite.



- Jill Pertler's column appears Thursdays in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.