March 26, 2014
There are some days when I think that i need a full time care giver or a fully supervised environment. I used to be a competent cognizant adult!
Yesterday, as I was getting dressed after aquafit, I realized that I had forgotten to put underwear into my bag. oh well, I've done that before. Then I couldn’t find my socks. I knew I wore socks. It’s still too cold for sockless outings. I have enough common sense to put on socks when it is minus twenty-two with the windchill factor. But there was no sign of my socks. I looked inside my shoes where I usually stuff them. I looked in the lockers. Yes plural, thinking I might have put them away so that the rest of my clothes would not absorb the smelly sock aroma. They weren’t on the floor. They weren’t under the bench. They weren’t inside the boots beside my shoes. They had simply disappeared or they were stolen by some poor homeless soul whose toes were frozen.
I gave up. I had more to do today than look for socks. I was pretty sure I had another pair at home. Thoroughly confused, I decided to head home sans socks. I pulled my hat out of the sleeve of my coat, put on my coat and started to pull my hat over my wet hair. Guess where my socks were? inside my hat! I wonder who put them there?
As I reached the car, I checked my bag for my bathing suit. You guessed it. It wasn’t there. I tried to recall all my actions after my shower. I remember putting it on a hook outside the shower. I remember taking it into the change room. I remember dropping it on the floor beside the bench. I remember NOT wrapping it into my towel and pushing it into my bag. I made an about face, returned to the change room and found it in a pathetic puddle beside the bench.
Later, at an appointment, I put my coat on the coatrack. At the end of my business, I retrieved my coat, zipped it up and headed out for the car. Because of the wind, I wanted to tie my scarf around my neck. It wasn’t there. I was puzzled.I put my hands in my pockets. No keys. I always keep my keys in my coat pocket. Then I stopped to look at my coat. It was black, but why was it too tight? Why did it have a fur trimmed hood? Why were my gloves missing from my pockets? Why? BECAUSE IT WASN’T MY COAT! I slunk back to the office. There on the rack was a hoodless black coat with a black and red scarf. Hoping no one was watching, I exchanged coats, sighed with relief that my keys were in my pocket and hurried out before anyone could realize what happened.
Later, while cooking I started to look for the salt. No sign of the container. Not on the table, not on the counter, not in the pantry, not in the cupboard. Frustrated, I grabbed another box of salt so I could season my dinner. When cleaning up, I put the leftovers in the fridge. There was my salt shaker!
What happened to the person who was always able to find what someone else had misplaced? Please don’t tell Josh. He may take away my car keys and convince me that I had lost them. I need to find an herb that helps with memory or Josh may try to commit me to Baycrest. Or worse yet, he may use that pillow placed firmly on the face until breathing ceases to free himself from worrying about his doddering mother.
Today has got to be a better day. My head is still attached and I’m working at moving my brain out of park.
