unofficial diagnosis

"Jesus Christ!" he says. "You really need to do something about that."

"About what?!"

"That ADD - my God it's gonna kill you."

"I don't have ADD."

"The hell you say."

"I don't - really."

He goes on to ask how much I sleep, what I do for a job, even if I can recognize the pattern in my writing - the thoughts racing. He points out the fidgity way I move my hands all the time. He is a psychologist - it's what he does, so I do actually listen when he says, "Look honey,I cannot diagnose you at a kitchen table, but I know it when I see it. They have drugs for that."

"So what," I say, "Maybe I do have it - maybe it works to my advantage."

"Possibly," he says, "But the not sleeping can kill you - did you know that?"

"That's not true."

He exhales hard and laughs. Then he gives me a website address - tells me to take the test, and let him know what happened.

I take his stupid test. 34 is borderline. Up to 49 is mild ADD. Up to 69 is moderate. 70 - 80 is serious.

I score an 89.
Red letters inform me to seek help IMMEDIATELY. WTF - and lose my edge? No way.

So I tell him that I passed. He laughs again and says, "So I guess we should add pathological liar to the list."