My Data Bank is Full
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So, now I am fifty and three quarters. I guess that would be 600 months in baby speak. Half a century is not a bad place to be, but I am finding that there are some things that go along with the half century mark that I come across that are extremely annoying.

I forget things a lot unless--and that is a big unless--I remember to write down my “to do list.” This means putting pen to paper, instead of using a lipstick liner to write my notes on the back of a gum wrapper in my car. My life has not always been this way; I am still an excellent multitasker, when I can remember what my tasks are. Here is a sample of a few hours in just one day:

On a venture to the “We have everything store,” I eventually found the plants and a few other necessities that I needed. I did engage in some heavy grazing in the food section as I wandered seemingly aimlessly around “the everything store” entirely too long. (The cashier did take a second look at the wrappers and grape stems in my cart.) The “everything store” is convenient because if I forget my list, I can wander around the giant store until I remember what it is I forgot, because after all, they have everything.

Upon returning from the store, I immediately retrieve all of my gardening tools, a large shovel, clippers, small shovel, gloves, hat and string. I work blissfully in the yard for about an hour until I begin to notice that all my tools have joined their friends the lost socks. Where could my small digger have gone? I make my way back to the flower box, I don’t see the small shovel, I wander to the front of the yard by the fence, no small shovel. I make a complete circuit of the yard, no small shovel. I then ask my daughter to find my shovel and my string which I realize is also missing. She begins hunting around the yard and then gives me a sympathetic look, no shovel or string. Her mother is not only losing her mind but also sings verses off key to herself. (Most of the neighbors consider me crazy when I am “plugged in” to my ipod, as I do tend to hum off tune notes here and there.) After this discouraging start to my day, I ruminate about possible solutions for my memory fog. Possibly those who are “Type A” personalities have already come up with some of these ideas, come to think of it, a “Type A” most likely will not have these problems to begin with.


1. A garden tool belt which has many pockets in which to put all of my yard tools. I have not figured out where the large shovel fits in the belt but I don’t usually lose that, as I make a habit of regularly stepping on it which results in a massive headache when it bangs me sharply in the forehead. I currently wear an apron in the yard, which sort of works as a tool belt, but there are not enough pockets and I look like a kangaroo (minus the cute baby) with my pockets completely stuffed full of tools.

2. I may as well have a second tool belt for all of indoor menial tasks that I do. This belt will have to be a bit larger as I often wander down to the laundry room and then of course, forget why I am there, so I do some laundry. I can put some socks and things in my large indoor tool belt when I hike back upstairs. As with the first tool belt, this apron lacks a really large pocket which is useful for carrying larger items such as the ironing board, a well known toe stubber in our basement. Now that I think about it, the tool belt would also have to have an attachment for several rolls of toilet paper. My people are incapable of going to the linen closet to re-supply the bathroom with T.P. This seems to be a task that only super-forgetful mom can do. I shudder to think how long they wait before I get to this task. I notice that my husband also comes down to the laundry room only to have a complete blank look on his face. He does not dare ask me, “Why am I here?” Ridicule and scorn would be heaped upon him in large doses.

3. Final solution...crossword puzzles--and I don’t mean the crossword puzzles from “People” magazine. According to my Google research, I can wiggle my eyes back and forth for some memory improvement while singing aloud to my music. Actually, the source suggested “reading aloud” but I am sure singing will work. There is no doubt my husband will have me committed if I attempt all three of these things at once. However, if these tactics don’t keep my mind sharp, I don’t know what will, as my friend just said to me this morning. “My data banks are full.” I think my data banks are archived. By the way, Lexi found my small shovel and string today on the trail in front of our house. Don’t ask.

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