Transfer of skills – cross contamination

I wish it were otherwise, but frankly, most of the time, I find the whole autism thing completely mystifying. It’s like a plot to trip me into senility early, well, a little bit early.

Take the simplest task, anything, go on, nothing too taxing. How about coaxing a grammatically correct question? A campaign to change ‘what it is’ to ‘what is it?’ Sounds like it ought to be feasible? After twenty minutes of sputtering I determine that I will fare much better if I refuel.

I stop into the kitchen with exasperation and decide that if I don’t eat soon, I will probably expire on the carpet.

I think of a quick fix, big calories, small quantity, for speedy consumption and immediate energy boost. I grab the uncut loaf, cut a thick slice and match it with a dollop of Cambazola, even though it is chilled.

I hear someone commanding my attention, turn towards the dictator, but I can’t wait another second for his words to formulate as I stuff the bread towards my mouth.

The smooshed, bread and cheese disintegrates on impact with lips that only part half a centimeter after jaw surgery. How could I have forgotten that I have not eaten anything ‘solid’ for nearly three months? I knit my brows at the small one, as he gathers himself to announce his announcement; “I was gonna be telling you dat! You cannot be eating it.”

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