Am I The Only Person On The Planet Who Can Not Multi-Task?

A friend asked me many months ago what I think about while I'm cleaning house and doing other "brainless" tasks. So, I took note next time I was folding laundry: "Hmm.. there's a stain. Fold arms in. Fold front down. Check tag. Size 7. Probably Eliza's. Put in pile. Now towel. Fold. Fold. Fold. Fold. Now Underwear. Why do I fold these at all? Now socks..." I took note next time I was mopping the floor: "Scrub. Scrub. Forward. Back. More water. Scrub. Scrub. Wring. Wring." and it was the same for washing dishes, cleaning toilets, and weeding the garden.

Apparently this friend, and many others I have checked with think about real things as they fold or mop or wash or weed. They decide what they'll teach at family home evening. They remember our conversation and think of wise advice to pass onto me next time we speak. They wonder about their children's relationships. They ponder over doctrine!

I don't get it at all. I think "fold, fold." "Scrub, scrub."

In a workshop I gave a couple of weeks ago I used a quote that said that the measure of a person's character is what they think about when they have nothing to think about. What does it mean that I think "scrub" and "fold"?

But, it all falls apart if I think about anything else. Even when I try to do more than one mindless job at the same general time as another mundane task. Today for example. I decided to make bread, pizza dough, and cinnamon buns in succession since I would have all of the ingredients out. Meanwhile changing laundry every now and then and interacting with my children a tiny bit. Here was the result:

I washed three over-stuffed loads of laundry (and dried them) with the water level setting to "very small" load. (The clothes don't smell so great, but I think I'm going to fold them anyway.)

I forgot that I was kneading bread in the electric mixer and left to get my sick kids set up watching a movie. Which turned out to involve finding and watching three previews online to help them decide which one to watch, getting Dallin to fix the DVD player, and overseeing a negotiation between "Barbie Rapunzel" and "Bats and Balls." When I came back to the mixer (about 20 minutes later), some of the bread dough had overflowed onto the counter and the floor, some had entwined itself into the spring-motor thing above the dough hook attachment and was spreading black motor grease stuff throughout the bread, the motor was making strange noises, and the casing was about 300 degrees Fahrenheit. I picked out the black parts. Now the bread is rising.

I put an empty pitcher into the little sink in our island to fill with water, left for some reason or another, began vacuuming, and returned to flood across the island, waterfalls in the cupboards, and lake across the floor. (This is the third time I've had this exact fiasco.)

And I forgot to take Chas to the highlight of his week-hockey class.

Why do I do these things? Inability to multi-task, I've decided.

Another friend says, "Multitasking is the bad word of the 90s." I think I agree with her. A little bit like I cherish the sign on my mother's fridge: "Dull women have immaculate homes." Not because I actually think that, but because it comforts me in my ineptitude.