In the end, it was the toast that got me.

I knew I had a problem when I found myself trying to figure out how much I could get done — empty the dishwasher, sort yesterday’s mail, etc. — in the time it took to toast two slices of bread.

While I was eating the toast I was thinking of the calls I needed to make once I got to work; while I was making those calls I was already thinking of all the things I still had to do once I got off of work.

Upon examination, I don’t think I fit the profile for your typical maniacal multitasker. I don’t have children, or even a dog. Technology-wise, I am probably eons behind most people my age. I don’t own a Blackberry or any other gadget that multitasking pros always have at the ready. My cell phone belongs in a museum exhibit and, even if it did do text and pics and everything else, I wouldn’t know how to use them.

I do, unfortunately, make up for my lack of knowledge about other communication tools by being an unreformed e-mail addict. I will answer one e-mail in the middle of answering another one, and possibly squeeze in a third before signing off on the first.

I also keep handwritten to–do lists all over the place. I then find myself glancing at them all day, trying to figure out how I can squeeze one more thing onto the page.

A few weeks ago, I realized that my life was devolving into one, protracted, multitasking whirlwind, and tasks were piling up faster than I could figure out how to do them all at the same time.

I was also, by my own admission, becoming really obnoxious. Have you ever had a conversation with someone who you could tell was not really listening at all? I could feel myself becoming that person.

So I’ve managed to back off a little, to stop thinking of a day as not complete unless it is crammed full. I have also been doing little exercises –which, ok, I made up—to help break the habit.

If I’m in the grocery store, I try to focus on just grocery shopping. It’s hard, but the benefits were apparent almost immediately. I didn’t forget anything, and things didn’t end up in the cart without me remembering how they got there.

I’ve also tried very hard not to talk on the phone while driving, which is obviously good for several reasons.

One morning last week I even made myself sit and wait for the toast. It was not the most productive two minutes to be sure, but it was relaxing and even somewhat peaceful.

I have certainly flip-flopped back and forth about whether multitasking is such a terrible thing. After all, there’s nothing wrong with getting a lot done, is there? We’re Americans after all, and aren’t people always talking about how much we get done, how much we produce, how good we are at go, go, go?

I suppose there is a balance. But I also know that when you find that there are stretches of the day you can’t remember — because you were trying to do five things at one time — you probably need to rethink things.

Of course, as I write this I know my lunch is sitting in the microwave waiting for me. I put it in before I started writing, figuring the ten minutes it took to cook, plus the five it took to cool, would give me enough time to get a jump on my writing tasks for the day.

This means that by now my lunch is probably cold and will need to be reheated. It also means, I suppose, that I still have a ways to go.