STRANGER THAN FICTION: LIFE AIN'T EASY FOR SCATTERBRAINED PEOPLE

I pull myself together for work. There are appointments to keep, people to interview, stories to write. I follow my little itinerary and manage a smooth, organized exterior.

Inside, there is a chaotic little beast screaming to get out.

I'm not sure when I became scatterbrained. It was only a few years ago that Mom visited my home, looked at various papers filed neatly on my desk and uttered those words so sweet to my ears: "Heidi, you are so much more organized than I am."

Those days are long gone. These days, I find past-due bills hiding behind my nightstand and routinely call people to apologize for completely forgetting promises I've made.

I've turned into the kind of person I always hated.

It began with the keys. First, they were constantly lost. I put them down someplace, walked away, and spent the next two hours looking for them.

Then a television show I watched said to complete a task, say what you've done out loud and walk away. So now I put my keys in my purse, say, "I've put my keys in my purse," and find them easily later, even though people around me look at me as though I'm insane.

My new thing is to take the keys out of my purse at any check-out counter. It doesn't matter if I'm in the middle of West Park Mall, there are five more stores to visit, and someone else drove. I get to the check-out, pay my money and take out my keys.

Ex-Mr. Dreams noticed the other day. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I have no idea."

But this is a golden opportunity to reminisce about my first date with Mr. Organization himself. We were headed from Sikeston to Paducah, Ky., and he turned off on Interstate 55.

Sure, you can get from Sikeston to Paducah by way of Cape Girardeau, but it would be at least a 30-minute detour.

Understand that I wasn't the blunt person then that I am today, but by Benton, I figured it was time to say something.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I have no idea."

Over the week, I collected a few other scatterbrain stories.

STEVE: One day my father installed a sliding screen door. He asked me to take some boxes out to the veranda and, looking straight at the screen door, I walked right through it.

As I lay on the ground with dirty screen marks on my face, Dad shook his head. "It's time I tell you," he said. "You're not my boy."

ERICA: Mom wanted to get some hamburgers at the drive-through of a fast-food place, but she whipped right past the speaker and went to the window. The cashier opened it and looked at us weird. She told Mom we would get a lot better service if we stopped at the speaker and gave our order.

My sister and I wanted to crawl under the seats.

PATTY: My worst one is walking into a room and having no idea what I went in there for. I usually pick something up before I go to save face in front of the kids.

There's an up side to all of this, you know. Without folks like Steve, Erica's mom, Patty and me, what would all you normal folks have to laugh about?

On to a totally different and more serious subject.

Thanks to all the folks who helped raise $1,660 for the AIDS Project of Southeast Missouri last weekend. About 40 Cape Girardeau businesses contributed to an auction at Independence Place. The next night, area performers sang and danced for free and donated all their tips to APSEMO.

It showed how Cape Girardeau residents come together for things that are important.

~Heidi Nieland is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.