I can't button my shirt uninterrupted.

I discussed this with  my therapist more than a few, but less than several weeks ago. I get started on the first few buttons but 99 times out of 100 I do something else before I'm finished buttoning the whole shirt. Why? Let's analyze the hell out of it, shall we?

1. I don't need to see what I'm doing, so my eyes are free to roam.
2. By the time I'm getting dressed there are a finite number of minutes to finish this routine.
3. I'm not able to be mindful of the act I must perform?

What could cause this inability to button one's shirt every single day, day after day, everyday, ad nauseum?
ADHD? Read that link, it's too fun to miss.

How about another of the bipolar symptoms? EveryDayHealth does a nice job of writing a lot and saying a little.

And what about me? Uh oh, I don't concentrate? Moi? I  can't concentrate on negative things or that will mean self-fulfilling prophesy. If I'm depressed, I have to think about something other than buttoning my shirt because if I  think about buttoning my shirt that will mean 47% of the part of the brain I  use in order to think conscious, albeit negative thoughts, will not be busy and the  natural tendencies to think negative thoughts in the morning before my Buspirone kicks in can only be defeated invoking the philosophy I  grew up on.

"An idle mind is the devil's workshop." 

WTF? Where'd I hear that before?  I heard it a lot growing  up. It's misquoted from  "The Sermon on the Mount." Stay with me, it's a great punchline.
 

The Bible verse from Philippians 4:8 illustrates this further: ''Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things." If we don't keep our minds on pure thoughts, the Devil will come in and take over.

My dad summed it up more succinctly.

"If you're not busy, grab a broom."

I'm supposed to do that in sales? Come on Dad, I was a  pharmaceutical rep. Really? I drove 800 miles a week. Where's the broom? Oh, I know, I'll listen to self-help tapes and  get all these delusions of grandeur. Beats pushing a broom, which beats being idle. Hmm...