I'm sure I'm fine.
And I'm sure that my recent lapses in memory have absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I'm getting older.
Let's enumerate the things I've forgotten to do the last five days, shall we? But I want to point out right now, this list doesn't include watering my mother's plants. She's out of town and her parting instructions to me were not to forget to water her plants.
Which I haven't done yet, but I won't forget about them.
Honest.
It also doesn't include the phone call I keep failing to make about getting a tree removed from my yard because it's dead.
That's simply procrastination.
OK, here we go:
Libby had a dentist appointment last Friday. It was written on the calendar. It had been written on the calendar for months. The office even sent me a text to remind me of the appointment two days prior and told me I could arrange for a reminder text the day of the appointment.
What am I, six?
I got this. Geez!
I sorta forgot all about it. Mothering at its finest. All of Libby's teeth are going to fall out and it's my fault.
There's more.
Getting in on my hair dresser's schedule is akin to getting in to see the president. I learned long ago to make my next appointment before I leave from getting my hair done instead of waiting until it was "almost time" and then calling her. The consequences are too great: Weeks of waiting around and watching in helpless agony as those grays return and violate my root-line with a vengeance. (I keep telling myself I'm going to quit dyeing my hair when I'm 50. But I'm not there yet, by God.) I had an appointment with her yesterday. I had the appointment in my calendar. I told my calendar to remind me two days prior. It did. I could have told it to remind me the day of but NO WAY am I forgetting that appointment because I KNOW what's in store for me if I do.
I completely forgot about it. The thought didn't occur to me until 12 hours later.
There also might have been an episode with the garden hose whereby I left it on at just a trickle to emulate a soaker-hose and sorta forgot about it.
For 15 hours.
Damn.
I'm not fine, am I?
It's a brain tumor. ->
And I'm sure that my recent lapses in memory have absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I'm getting older.
Let's enumerate the things I've forgotten to do the last five days, shall we? But I want to point out right now, this list doesn't include watering my mother's plants. She's out of town and her parting instructions to me were not to forget to water her plants.
Which I haven't done yet, but I won't forget about them.
Honest.
It also doesn't include the phone call I keep failing to make about getting a tree removed from my yard because it's dead.
That's simply procrastination.
OK, here we go:
Libby had a dentist appointment last Friday. It was written on the calendar. It had been written on the calendar for months. The office even sent me a text to remind me of the appointment two days prior and told me I could arrange for a reminder text the day of the appointment.
What am I, six?
I got this. Geez!
I sorta forgot all about it. Mothering at its finest. All of Libby's teeth are going to fall out and it's my fault.
There's more.
Getting in on my hair dresser's schedule is akin to getting in to see the president. I learned long ago to make my next appointment before I leave from getting my hair done instead of waiting until it was "almost time" and then calling her. The consequences are too great: Weeks of waiting around and watching in helpless agony as those grays return and violate my root-line with a vengeance. (I keep telling myself I'm going to quit dyeing my hair when I'm 50. But I'm not there yet, by God.) I had an appointment with her yesterday. I had the appointment in my calendar. I told my calendar to remind me two days prior. It did. I could have told it to remind me the day of but NO WAY am I forgetting that appointment because I KNOW what's in store for me if I do.
I completely forgot about it. The thought didn't occur to me until 12 hours later.
There also might have been an episode with the garden hose whereby I left it on at just a trickle to emulate a soaker-hose and sorta forgot about it.
For 15 hours.
Damn.
I'm not fine, am I?
It's a brain tumor. ->
3 comments:
Oh dear God, this is so me it's downright scary! LOL I wish I couldn't relate, but I can and do.
Like you, I'm sure it has nothing whatsoever to do with age... :-o
Age has absolutely nothing to do with these brief lapses in memory ... NOTHING! We're just so busy keeping up with the daily grind that we let some things slip. That's my story and I'm totally sticking to it.
And no - I also have NO idea what you mean by the gray violations. Nothing at all! No clue!!
Okay - I'm done now.
Sounds perfectly normal to me.
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