Honey, I’m Late

Here I am, perusing my email at a leisurely pace while eating vanilla yogurt with banana granola (yumm!) when I come across a reminder that Friday’s my day to blog. Yeah, okay, I remember that. I meander on through the email — I haven’t been online in two days — then happen to glance at the day/date on the email. Aack!! Today’s Friday! I’m late! Again.

Wish I could say something fabulously wonderful has made me lose track of time. The new idea’s going well . . . though in a completely different direction from what I’d thought. I did go shopping for some new clothes and found two great sweaters, four shirts (all plaid! I love plaid!) and a jacket that I love, but that doesn’t excuse me from being on time. I’ve watched hours of Criminal Minds on TV the last couple days — oh, but wait. I do that every day.

Nope, it’s just me. Things flit in and out of my brain without leaving even a trace behind. I read a funny article about people getting forgetful as they get older; the author was enjoying the company because she’s always been forgetful. That’s me. I’d tell you where I read it, but I can’t remember.

I take comfort in the fact that if I get senile, no one will know because I’ve always been this way. πŸ™‚

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9 thoughts on “Honey, I’m Late

    • LOL, Barbara. I was stunned to see how early our town had put up its Christmas decorations. I was ranting about how they push it up earlier every year and soon we’re going to have candy canes and nutcrackers up in July, when my husband pointed out that it’s the middle of November. Huh??

  1. Marilyn,

    I’ve been blaming my brain damage on menopause for the past five years. When that all settles down, will I just have to own up to losing my mind?? spw

    • LOL, Sandee! I prefer to think that my brain is just so full of interesting tidbits — as I’m sure yours is, too — that SOMETHING’s got to give. There’s just so much space in there, you know. And you can always find someone handy to remind you of your child’s or grandchild’s name, but so much of what’s in there is unique to you. πŸ˜‰

  2. I think it’s a common ailment for us beyond a certain age. I think it’s older than ten. Personally, I blame it on motherhood.

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