Keep A Close Eye On Me
This pretty much sums me up lately, though I'm not quite as ancient, and I don't actually smoke. In fact, my only vices these days are too much coffee and Publix fried chicken. How do I account, then, for my dwindling memory? I used to could tell you what shoes I was wearing when I talked to you on the phone three weeks ago on a Thursday as I drove to Walgreens to pick up Biggy's Prilosec. I could report the conversation verbatim and say how many times I got honked at for drifting into the other lane.
But times--they are a'changin':
Last week, for instance, I couldn't find my cell phone at work. I looked all over my office, in all the shelves and file drawers, under the stacks of student papers I'd forgotten to give back last quarter, and even in the trash can where, it turns out, I'd thrown away some important insurance forms. I searched Hank's office, and Claire's, before going upstairs to check the bathroom stalls and the area around the time-clock. Next, I went back downstairs, found my car keys on a stack of cd's by the stereo, then up again and out to my car in the parking lot. I looked in and under all the seats, under the floor mats, and in the side pockets. Thoroughly frustrated, I slammed the door, only to notice that the phone was in my hand--had been the entire time.
And today: I told Claire I was going to get coffee and asked her if she wanted anything. I drove the short half mile to Starbucks, where I couldn't remember if Claire had said yes or no. I called the school but couldn't reach her, so I decided to err on the side of generosity and get her a latte. Standing in line, I rummaged around in my purse for my wallet but couldn't find it. I opened it wide and looked closely--still, no. I shrugged my shoulders, returned to my car for the drive back to school. While I was at a red light, I started to put on some lip gloss and, reaching into my bag, found my wallet immediately. I almost didn't turn around, but I didn't want to disappoint Claire. So I did a big circle to Starbucks again and got my venti sugar-free hazelnut nonfat latte and Claire's plain-ol' whatever. As I arrived at school, hot beverages in hand, Claire was walking out the door for lunch, which is why she'd told me very clearly NOT to get her anything.
(It's amazing, really, how much that old woman looks like me.)