Monday, July 28, 2008


Nobody ever warned me that I'd turn into a blathering idiot when I hit 50. I can't remember shit (sorry, Mom, that's your word, I know). I repeat myself, repeat myself, repeat myself; swear I brought things home but instead left them elsewhere (yes, Nicole, my favorite cooler was still at the cabin), look for clothes I sent to the Goodwill long ago, have imaginary friends and can't remember quite significant things I did 20 years ago. I get back from vacation and can't remember my e-mail PIN. Thank God I wrote it down before I left. So far I haven't left my keys in the refrigerator, but I know that could be coming sooner than I expected.

I thought only truly old people did this. Heck, my mom didn't start getting "scattered" like this until she hit 70-something. And instead of letting this frustrate her, she just bought more PostItTM notes.

So far this isn't all that debilitating, luckily. I don't usually get lost in the car, embarrass people or myself unintentionally or act legally insane. I probably annoy my children and my husband more than I do myself -- they already know I'm kind of OCD anyway. But when I try to lighten up a bit and am not compulsively tidying my house/workspace/dresser drawers, this is what happens. Promise me: If I get dangerously forgetful, hide the keys in the fridge. That would scare me into submission.


Pants said...

Sad. I left my keys in the fridge the other day. John went to make himself a wrap and asked me how funny I thought I was being by leaving my keys in the deli drawer.

The worst part is that I'd been planning a trip to the grocery store to restock the deli drawer, and was unable to go once I lost my keys. I was on my way out the door and I stopped to check the level of Pepper Turkey! I never made it to the store that night!

I've also left them in my undies drawer, balled up in the back corner with the laundry-day rejects (I think I was in a rush to pack a sports bra for the gym... I think...). They were gone for three days that time.

I put them in my toothbrush holder one morning, when I was rushing out the door and almost forgot to brush my teeth so had to rush back and take care of that. I was an hour late for work.

I like to think that my brain has more important things to focus on, like errant apostrophes and grammatical errors. If I didn't, there's no telling what would happen. :)

Emilie said...

Hmm. Chemo is turning me into a blathering idiot, and I'm all but 40. The other day at Mississippi Market, I completely blanked on my membership number, which I usually can recite as readily as my phone number. I just stood there with my jaw jumbling around ... "Uh, I think it has a 5 in it ... or maybe a 7 ..."