Panic attacks

I was talking to my sister today, and I told her I couldn't figure out why I have panic attacks.

Then, while I was finishing a paper, EG came into the room and said, "Do we have lunch meat?"

"In the freezer," I replied. He went downstairs and came back up, reporting we had none.

"There is too lunchmeat in the freezer. It is in a blue bag on the right side. I know it is there because I bought it Tuesday and froze it."

He went back downstairs. "There is no lunchmeat. I can't find it, so we don't have any."

I sent Nita downstairs for lunchmeat. She was back in less than a minute with two packages.

Then he got into the refrigerator. "Nita, where's the mayonnaise? Where's the mustard. We're out of mustard."

"No, we have two kinds of mustard in there. I just bought some."

"We don't have any, or I would have found it."

Um.

Just now, Kiki started shrieking that someone stole her twenty dollar bill. This is highly unlikely, as no one would be able to find anything much in her room, which I refuse to enter without a hazmat suit. Her dad went upstairs (I am not certain if he thought he would find the twenty--perhaps he has more luck with non-food items). Shortly afterward, Kiki was bawling, her dad was yelling in Spanish, and Rocky was sent for trash bags. Plural.

So then Rocky, who is the trash removal coordinator, went into the kitchen and bumbled around in the cupboard. Kiki joined him, and started shrieking that there were no more trash bags. Rocky finally said, "We may be out." Drama ensued for about three minutes. Finally, when I could be heard, I said, "Why didn't you TELL me we were out of trash bags."

Um.

"Okay," I said, "go out to the kitchen and find the grocery list and add trash bags." Off he went.

Meanwhile, Nita came to me and reported that she had mildew growing on the walls of her room. This is quite common this time of year, as the furnace doesn't run much, and we forget to turn the dehumidifier on. I said, "Is it a little bit or a lot?" Nita says, "It is a LOT." EG retorts, "No, it's not." Nita screams, "No one ever believes me. And I didn't take the twenty dollar bill!" I ask, "Is the mildew spot bigger than a piece of paper?" They both tell me no. I send Nita up with some cleaner and a rag and locate the extension cord for EG to start the dehumifier.

I sit back down and try to focus on my conclusion. For five minutes, Rocky is rustling around in the kitchen. "What are you DOING in there?" I ask. "Looking for the grocery list," he replies reasonably.

"In the DARK?"

"Well, I can see a little." I direct him to turn ON the light, find a clean piece of paper, write "trash bags, soy milk, light bulbs" on it, and hang it on the refrigerator. When I go out there, I see he has inscribed the shopping list on a two inch wide post-it note in wide magic marker.

Whatever.