Ahhhh...nuts

So I'm in Fiction Writing listening to someone critique a story and I'm being all puppy-dog ADD, watching a fly skirt across the room, picking my fingernails until they bleed. I'm checking my phone every 10 minutes, consequently seeing the minutes end with 9. 3:19, 3:29, 3:49, 4:09, 4:19.
4:19. We're supposed to be out in exactly one minute, and we've just started critiquing the third story.
Come on, seriously?
I look out the window, look at a girl's crazy outfit with teal-colored tights, a navy shirt, brown snow boots. Boobs hanging out. She talks a lot.
I look at Dr. Bell's collared shirt. Another set of blue stripes. He wears stripes a lot, specifically blue.
I feel my thigh jiggling from my foot across it--it wag wag wag wag wags like the puppy dog I'm resembling.
I look at my pitiful-looking nails, at the faded writing on my hand. The knobby bone in my right hand sticks out a lot more than my left hand. My red-green-white braided bracelet on my left wrist is starting to fade a little. The white is getting a little dingy, but someone will have to remove my wrist to get that sucker off.
4:23. Come on, dudes. Shut up. I need to go to my apartment, go to the library, get something to eat.
I check my backpack, throw my phone in the pocket out of frustration. But my pocket looks flat.
Uh-oh.
My keys aren't there.
I yank the phone right out of there, text my roommate.
Keys are on my bed. Along with my WKU ID card. Money. Debit card. Credit card.
4:29, we get out. 9 minutes past is completely unacceptable. Come on peeps.
I walk to the apartment, obnoxiously knock on the door, no answer. I repeat several times. No answer. I call both roomies. No answer.
Well, nuts.
Story of my life.
I think I have ADD.
Or amnesia.
Or epilepsy.
Maybe I have a brain tumor.