What an ADHDer Does at 2 A.M.

Or Maybe Just THIS ADHDer. . .

I couldn’t sleep the other night. My Traditional Chinese Medicine doctor (now on Substack) took me off of coffee. Coffee does not keep me awake — I can fall asleep after drinking an entire pot of Starbucks French Roast. She prescribed for me to drink tea. To me, it’s anemic coffee, but it has cured my 20+ year need for acid reflux pills. But now I had a new problem. I didn’t know which tea to drink at night while binge-watching my European police procedural series. (I’m on Season 2 of the Swedish/Danish version of THE BRIDGE.)

I was trying to be a good patient, drinking matcha hibiscus tea. It tastes like hot spinach juice, if I’m being honest. I added a vanilla chai tea bag to cut the flavor, unaware it contained black tea. That’s when everything went off the rails. Tea caffeine hits me differently than coffee for some reason.

I went to bed wired.

I laid there, mind racing, pondering random thoughts, like why can’t I distinguish between Bed, Bath & Beyond and Bath and Bodyworks? I’d get hot, flip off the covers, then be freezing. Rinse, repeat. I knew I didn’t have the focus I needed to dig into my latest Donna Tartt novel (The Little Friend). I resorted to my secondary go-to, dopa-scrolling on Facebook.

Dopa-scrolling is the term I invented that means the polar opposite of “doomscrolling.” (Do you ever picture polar bears when you write the phrase polar opposite? Like, you literally see a black bear standing next to a white polar bear in your mind’s eye? Or is it just me? If you presume I’m off my ADHD meds, you’re right. Wheeeeee! Who knows where this blog will go?)

Doomscrolling is defined as “the action of continually scrolling through and reading depressing or worrying content on a social media or news site, especially on your phone.” So, I created dopa-scrolling: the act of dopa-mining over online content, e.g., videos like the Pinks’ ADHD Love, DIYers making crappy rooms look like Park Avenue at 100 mph with $100 in paint and moulding, and engaging in another term I invented, dopa-teasing.

Dopa-teasing is like prick-teasing or edging, but for my brain. For me, the best form of dopa-teasing is fake shopping. Here’s how that works: I go on Facebook Marketplace and tantalize myself with random stuff I heart (which means to “Like” in Facebook Marketplace-ese), but I never pull the trigger on actually buying any items. I have 100 beach cruiser bikes saved. Dozens of ping pong tables. Here’s hoping there’s no terabyte limit on my Facebook Marketplace saved items.

So, the tea kept me up until 4 a.m. as I was dopa-teasing, rapid-fire scrolling on Facebook Marketplace. And that’s when I saw it: the most magical, perfect prank of a housewarming gift for my brother Vince and sister-in-law Denine.

I could just hear Denine screaming, “Vince, your-sister’s-an-asshole!” upon opening this hideous gift from the heart, buried deep in a box adorned with fancy wrapping paper and lotsa tissue. There is nothing funnier to me than Denine’s dramatic reactions to Vince’s and my shenanigans. This played in my head like a movie and got me giggling so hard, I shook the bed, awakening poor Indy, my Balinese cat who was resting peacefully at my feet. No sleep would be happening for hours, for either of us.

But there was a small problem: this housewarming prank would cost me $300. I have some modicum of self-control. I’m self-disciplined enough to set a $100 limit for myself on pranks and practical jokes spends. Someday, that will be a separate line item on the budget I fantasize that I’m creating for myself when I become organized. (Dr. Russell Barkley was right about ADHD being Intention Deficit Disorder.)

Frankly, I was incensed that anyone would charge $300 for such absolute shite. I felt $10 was a fair price, regardless of the autograph. I mean, really. . . what percentage of society cares about Gene Simmons’ autograph anymore? Their post claimed they were marking it down from $800. I find that as hard to swallow as a French kiss from Gene Simmons. YOU BE THE JUDGE:

Is this not the most God-awful interior design piece you’ve ever seen? I can see why they call it a wall “plaque,” since his teeth seem to covered in it as some as some sort of value add. I’d categorize it as an “Early Biker” period piece.

I laid there, staring up at my ceiling, intrigued: what does the owner of an $800 Gene Simmons 3D wall plaque look like? (Lotsa leather, wallet on a chain?) Do for a living? (Pitbull breeder?) Would the plaque reek of cigarette smoke and skunkweed? (Probably. Usually the ads will say if the item is coming from a non-smoking home.)

If I could negotiate the seller down to $100, I’d request an in-person pick-up. Would I be pulling up to some record producer’s million-dollar mansion. . . or a doublewide trailer pulsing to Megadeth from giant, 1970s speakers? This seller is straight outta my author friend Mike Baron’s Florida Man series.

In the end, I decided to heart Gene Simmons’ 3D plaque on Facebook Marketplace. Now I’m just lying in wait, eyes peeled for that price to drop. . .

P.S. DEAR PAID SUBSCRIBERS: You may have noticed I’ve been less prolific lately. I’ve been writing my new book, SIMPLIFY: The Essential Corporate Guide to the ADHD User Experience. As a gift to you, I will be sharing each of the chapters with you as I complete them, as well as a downloadable PDF of the final manuscript. I hope to have my book done by the first week of January. Your feedback would be immensely helpful.