A friend and I were talking the other day about our seemingly innocuous symptoms that apparently are going around. They suggest a troublesome malady.

The problem for me manifests itself something like this: I go downstairs to start a load of laundry and notice the Halloween decorations still sitting at the bottom of the steps. I carry the decorations to the mudroom, where they are stored for 51 weeks a year, and see the potted basil plant still outside on the back deck.

I'd better bring that indoors while there's life left in it, I tell myself, grateful for the overhanging roof that has protected it from the killing frosts. Placing the plant on the kitchen counter, I begin to pick off the good leaves, which I will dry for use throughout the winter.

Standing at the counter, I see yesterday's unopened mail. Thumbing through it, I find a bill that needs paying, so I head to the office to write a check and get a stamp. There again is my dusty wooden desk, which I had intended to clean last weekend. With guests coming for the holidays, I decide to do it now, lest I forget again.

Endust in hand, I clean the desk, but as I dust around the computer monitor, I nudge the mouse, and the screen blinks to life. I decide to check my e-mails. Sitting comfortably at the computer, I treat myself to a game of electronic Solitaire. After all, it's a weekend and I'm entitled to a little relaxation.

Several games later, I look up and see that it is almost noon. Where did the morning go, I wonder. The laundry isn't done. The Halloween decorations are now in the middle of the mudroom floor, and there's a basil plant dirtying my kitchen counter. The bill isn't paid, the desk is half-dusted.

Undisciplined, you question? Or maybe just plain lazy?

No, I suffer from a little-known malady becoming more widely known via e-mail as A.A.A.D.D. — Age-Activated Attention Deficit Disorder. It's baffling. You can work all morning, yet nothing gets done. And by midday, you're tired and need a rest.

A.A.A.D.D. can affect many areas of your life. Once a connoisseur in the kitchen, I now struggle with recipes I've been using for decades. When I made my standard coffee cake recipe Sunday morning, I had to pause several times: Did I add baking powder or baking soda? Was that three teaspoons, or four? And why did my husband buy nutmeg when I wrote cinnamon on the grocery list? (He suffers from the malady, too.)

But like many over 50 who have A.A.A.D.D., I am beginning to find ways to compensate. Like never cooking with the TV on or if anyone is within 50 feet of the kitchen.

And compiling lists — in my purse, on the kitchen counter, by my bedside, and on my computer screen — to help me stay on track.

And, upon the recommendation of my oldest sister-in-law, who's well into her second decade of A.A.A.D.D., I do crossword puzzles. "It helps your concentration," she tells me.

I think I'll do that now, but first I have to get a pencil from the desk¿.

Linda K. Schmitmeyer is a freelance writer living in Middlesex Township. Her e-mail address is lks260@zoominternet.net.