I think most people can handle 2, maybe 3, things at once. You can cook dinner and keep an eye on the baby, perhaps. Or watch television and knit a scarf. You can certainly walk and talk simultaneously, I'm sure.
Today I think I accidentally multi-tasked myself to a standstill. I had 8 projects in progress at once: weeding the front garden bed, cleaning the fish tank, vacuuming the house, laundry, recording music, working on the AWC website, going through and cleaning out the overflowing basket of magazines, and doing dishes.
Of course, I didn't REALLY do them all AT THE SAME TIME (though the laundry was/is going on at the same time as the others). I dashed from one to the other, feeling a bit like a chicken with my head cut off, complete with squawking and wing-flapping. In between I went to the grocery store and the fish store and emptied the garbage cans. I even made popsicles to freeze for the kids! I answered emails and read through my blogroll. In addition to all that, I talked to both my brother and my sister on the phone for quite a long time.
All this by way of distraction from some bad news I got last night. I don't particularly want to talk about it here yet. I am suddenly beset with the superstitious fear that if I mention its name (Voldemort!) I will be giving it both power and presence, and I flatly and categorically refuse to do so because it is something that can and will be beaten. (And for those of you who might be jumping to conclusions, please jump back)
I don't know any better cure for worry than to get busy and stay busy.
But guess how many of those 8 projects are actually done, now that I'm near the end of the day? Yes, that's correct. None of them.
Which is fine, as it means I'll have plenty to distract myself with tomorrow.