Husbands, undies, and ADHD

My husband just recently diagnosed himself as adult ADHD.  He tells me this as if I’m supposed to be surprised or something.  As if I’ve never realized that he doesn’t pay attention when I’m talking.  Does he not think I notice when I send him to the store for milk and bread,  and he comes back with a watermelon instead?  Or that when it was his turn to pay the bills, we almost had our electricity shut off?  Twice?  Or that he’s impulsive?  Like the time he decided he wanted to re-finish his $3000 speakers, so he ripped the wooden panels off within two seconds of the idea striking him?  Or that he leaves projects unfinished?  Like said $3000 speakers, which have been sitting there with the wood panels ripped off for the past two years?  I won’t even bring up the countless gadgets and various crap he’s purchased over the years, because the “impulse” struck him.

What I wonder, though, is if it’s really ADHD that makes him forget to pick up his undies.  I mean, surely even the most distracted person is aware of when they strip off their skivvies? Don’t you at least feel a draft? And yet there his are, strewn all over the house like rice at a wedding.  Only larger and smellier.  And it sort of begs the question of why in the world my husband is stripping in all corners of the house?  This, as with many things concerning my husband, is probably a question best left unanswered.

So, what does my husband do when he decides he is ADHD?  He goes and buys about 100 books about it, of course.  Because we all know how good ADHD folks are at finishing books.  Basically, the books are just something else for me to pick up around the house.  Maybe they can keep the undies company.  If the books could only tell him how to remember to pick up the books, we’d be making some serious progress.  But I guess we can’t have it all.