The downstairs zone control on my furnace isn’t functioning, so on Sunday I called my plumber, who works for me freelance, to see if he could come take a look. He said he’d call on his way over this Wednesday or Thursday evening.
He called after I got home from work Wednesday to say he’d be by in about an hour and a half. I was surprised to hear from him, because I’d lost track of what day it was. I hung up the phone, finished fixing dinner, popped in a DVD and was still in the living room sometime later when suddenly there was a man outside the door on the porch. I’d already forgotten that he was coming over.
Michele posted earlier about forgetting things – I know because I went back to check. I have a feeling that memory will be a frequent topic here, if only because neither one of us has the foggiest idea of what we’ve already written.
I used to worry about losing my mind, but I long ago discovered that every woman I know over the age of 35 has memory problems. I was proofreading copy for a 50-something colleague this week; about a half hour after I returned the edited pages to her desk – while she was sitting at it – she came by my office to remind me to read them. And then she did the same thing again – twice, with two different projects.
The last time I saw my grandmother, who was in her 90s, she kept asking me the same three questions over and over. None of them had any basis in reality as I knew it. Yes, she’s senile, but look on the bright side, I told my mom. Everything is always new to her – she must never get bored. I don’t know if it was true, but it made my mother laugh – and maybe feel a little less burdened.
Really, what else can you do? Sharing our stories helps us all feel a little less crazy, and I feel better having so many women to laugh along with me. Now if only I could remember any of their names….