Autism rock

A while ago a coworker found a smooth, flattish rock, on which somebody had painted a melange of colors and the word "Autism."

I take every opportunity to make my coworkers wonder and worry about me. So I tucked that rock into the corner of my office at the right angle intersection of wall and window.

A couple of months later, I felt bad about appropriating autism for a joke. I wanted to remove the rock. But in the time between placing the rock and this change of heart, I had added many plants and tools to automatically water them. I could no longer reach the "Autism" rock. My plants were in the way.

Instead of feeling bad that I was misleading people into thinking I have autism, I started to wonder if I really do have it. I mean, why do I have so many plants that I can barely use my office?

Today I stretched and stretched and grabbed the rock. I felt relieved. "That proves I don't have autism." But my very next thought was, "This would make a good skippin' rock." That doesn't seem like something a neurotypical adult should be thinking about.