The Answer is _________________ ?

Sometimes I think I annoy people.  Well, let me be more specific.  I know I annoy people.  But, specifically, sometimes I think it annoys people that it takes me a very long time to process information.  It takes me much longer than it should to answer basic questions, but I think that may be the problem.  Sometimes "basic" questions send my brain on a wild goose chase. 
For example, a person may ask me something like, "Do these pants come in size 8?"  And my mind goes through an entire rundown of possible answers.  First I have to weed through and decline approximately 38 smart ass answers.  Then I have to weed through and decline just as many passive/aggressive answers that would politely let the person know their question was stupid.  Then I have to think about what they really meant to ask, which is, of course, do we have them in size 8.  Then I have to think about whether or not I have seen those pants in a size 8 in any other location.  Then I have to think about how I could possibly get them for her, or what I do have in a size 8 that might be comparable .... etc, etc, etc.  Meanwhile, she's irritated with me. 
Ugh.
I know I do this and I want to stop.  In my attempt to say the right thing and not offend, I am annoying people with my delayed reaction.
So, I know the problem. What never occurred to me until recently was what my face might look like while all this is happening.  I didn't even think about it until I was listening to the Talking Heads the other day and a lightbulb went on over my head.  (Apparently, there is a lot going on over my head!  Ha!)
Years ago I found myself (behind the wheel of a large automobile ... no) at an art center in Omaha watching David Byrne in a small theatre.  It was a really cool show in a rather strange venue and I felt weird about sitting there politely in my seat while David Byrne went nuts on stage.  I decided to get out of my seat and head to the stage.  Now, I don't know if I was the first fool to start dancing in front of the low stage, or the second fool joining the first fool (thus starting a movement), but I ended up front and center and a crowd quickly gathered. 
And there, right above my head, was David Byrne in his little kilt.  He put one foot on a speaker or light or something and swung his hips in such a way that the kilt whipped out over my head and I found myself face-to-________ with David Byrne's tighty whities!
Only they weren't very white.  They were actually rather grey.  So I thought, hmmmm, that's weird.  I wonder who does his laundry for him.  He's David Byrne.  Why are his undies grungy?  Can't he afford to just put on a fresh pair for every show?  Does he do his own laundry?  Does he throw his big, pink fur suit, flesh and muscle leotard, giant shoulder padded jacket and kilt all in his gym bag  with his sweaty underpants after the show and later shove them together in one washer at the nearest Duds-n-Suds?  David Byrne jumping off the tour bus at a Laundromat.  And, speaking of his big, pink fur suit, is that a mohair suit?  Is that what Elton John was singing about?!?!  He's got electric boots, a mohair suit, you know I read it in a magazyyheeeeeeeeen ohhhhh ho.  I don't think mohair looks like that.  And certainly you wouldn't throw that in a washing machine, would you?  And wouldn't that turn your panties pink not grey?  Do you think Elton John wears tighty whities?  I wonder who does EJ's laundry .....
OK.
So, all of this went on while I was staring at the man's crotch.  And he was swinging that kilt over my head so I would have a great view because obviously I was intrigued.  I remember looking away from his underpants and guiltily up to his face where he was looking at me with a great deal of mirth in his eyes ... and I truly felt like we had a moment.
A really embarrassing moment.
And now that I've identified the problem .... I still don't know what to do about it.  I suppose it is just nice to know.