OK, I admit that I passed the half-century mark in age quite some time ago, but I do not consider myself old, although the term “old” does seem to have taken on some fluidity over the years. When I was a kid, 35 seemed ancient, when I got to be 35, 65 was old. Now that I’m pushing 60, old is somewhere above 80. And I most certainly do not consider myself to be the least bit senile, although… I have caught myself having what some would call a “senior moment” now and again.
Just the other day, it was a Saturday, the day I always fix a nice breakfast for my sweetie (omelets are my specialty, but I can do other things too) I found myself standing in the kitchen, with an array of delicious food stuffs neatly arranged on the counter, but could not for the life of me remember what I had planned to cook. I stood there for several moments, inventorying the items I’d laid out hoping for a clue. Finally it came to me and I forged ahead again. But it was embarrassing, even though the dog and I were the only ones who knew about it.
It wasn’t the first time, either. I can’t even count the times I’ve gone into another room to get or do something only to wonder, “Why did I come in here?” That is disconcerting. I do find that telling the dog what I’m going to go do helps me remember. I suppose you don’t actually need a dog, but if you forget and do this while someone is visiting you don’t look quite so crazy to them. Read the rest of this entry »