“You know… the thing that holds hot chocolate, above the dish cleaning machine.”
Translation: I need a mug from the cabinet above the dishwasher….
Forgetting things and words happens with increased frequency, and I hate it.
In the past year, I have left or forgotten the following items during my adventures out in the world:
- Two umbrellas
- One necklace, handmade with a large turquoise pendant
- Five doggie bags
- My favorite fuzzy socks
- Six Pilot purple gel pens
- Countless words (mug, dishwasher, sprinkler, buffet, etc…)
- At least twenty names (sorry friends)
- Copies of Southern Living, O!, and a trashy romance novel
- My tenacity
I have become ‘that’ person… the person who leaves the water running and can never find her car. That person who goes into a panic when she can't find her reading glasses balanced on top of her head. That person who leaves sentences dangling as she madly scrambles for the right word to pick it back up. That person who recognizes a face she's seen 50 times, but can't remember the name of it's owner. That person who forgets the name of the band that plays the song in that movie with so and so who also stared in the movie she can't remember the title of either.
I'm fond of saying, "my hard drive is full" because it's true. My brain is so packed with a half-century's worth of information that there's just no more space to shove anything else in there. And good luck pulling anything back out. My mind's a mess, and I really need a new memory stick. I rely more and more on spastic arm movements and hand gestures to help convey what I'm trying to say but can't remember how to. It's like being in a never-ending game of Charades.
When one becomes that person, it pays to have a sense of humor, or you will never want to leave the house. So, I look on the bright side of turning so dim: For one, during those times when I can't find the word I'm looking for, I'm forced to come up with some pretty creative alternatives, like "that container where you put dirty laundry" for "hamper," or even, "striped four-legged meow machine" for our cat Buddy.
I’m off to visit what’s her face, on that road by the big orange box store; we're having brunch or lunch or something!?!
Based on a post by: Blank Stare, Blink.