Over the past year or so, I have noticed that I am getting more and more forgetful. At least I think it’s over the last year. I don’t actually remember how long it’s been.
Everyone forgets things. It’s human nature. You forget something on your grocery list, or forget to call someone back, or forget to put the clothes in the dryer. That’s natural. But forgetting to put your glasses on when you cannot see a blasted thing without them, and walking out the door to go to work, and wondering why everything is so blurry, now that’s not natural.
For years, I have been calling my sons by both their names. I address Georgie as “GeorgieDonnie.” And Donnie as “DonnieGeorgie.” I call our dog Mojo by our old dog’s name. He responds, too, which doesn’t say much for his memory. I do call George by his correct name. At least I think I do. I can’t remember.
There were three cars in the Quick Check parking lot one afternoon. Mine, which is silver, and two others, one silver and one red. I spent at least one solid minute trying to unlock the other silver car, all the while wondering why there was an infant seat in my back seat. How do you forget which car is yours in a parking lot with THREE CARS? I’m surprised I wasn’t hauled in for attempted auto theft.
I can remember my first day of kindergarten and what I wore (a red, black and white plaid jumper with a white blouse and black shoes). I can remember my first pair of high heels (I was in 6th grade and the shoes were white). I can remember the perfume I wore to my 8th grade graduation (Evening in Paris – blue bottle).
I can remember where my locker was in high school and all the words to the song “Bali Ha’i” in French, which a group of us sang in the annual musical. (Bali Ha’i, peut vous appeler). I can remember my hospital room numbers when I gave birth to both my sons. (Georgie – Room 183 and Donnie – Room 201). I can remember the dates that both my sons left for college (Georgie – August 18, 1999 and Donnie – August 23, 2003).
I have forgotten to put coffee in the coffeemaker, so that when George goes to pour his morning cup of joe, he gets nothing but hot water. I have put cereal boxes in the fridge. I have scorched more than one burner cover because I forgot to take them off the stove before I turn it on.
This creates a wonderful, lingering aroma of burnt tin throughout the house. I have forgotten to put water in the pan while steaming fresh green beans, filling the house with another unforgettable scent of blackened green beans with a hint of charred Teflon.
I have forgotten my cell phone number, my social security number, and my age. I have forgotten where I am driving and why I am driving there. Oops. I just had a thought but I forget what it was. It was funny, too. Darn it.
I was on the computer in our spare bedroom one night when George came in. He asked me, “Were you just in the bathroom?” I said yes. He said, “Did you wash your hands?” I responded, “Uh, YEAH. Why?” George informed me, “You left the faucet running.” I left the FAUCET RUNNING. Yep, forgot to turn off the FAUCET.
If it wasn’t for Post-It notes, I’d be in trouble. I write little reminders to myself on them. I staple them to the handle of my purse so that this way I will NOT forget. Next I will be stapling them to the sleeves of my shirts.
In the great book “Winnie the Pooh, ” A.A. Milne wrote, “Did you ever stop to think, and forget to start again?” I feel like that line defines my whole life lately.
So this is dedicated to all my friends who experience the same problem with their memory. I’d name them all, but I can’t remember who they are.
