Strange Complaints

 Lately if it isn’t written down to remind me, I will forget. Whether that is forget to do something or forget to take something such as medication it doesn’t matter, I’m going to forget. There is also the fact, of course, that even if it’s written down to remind me, I will forget that it is written down.

Ask my sister, she could verify this.

I can’t tell you how many times I agree to help her do something about her house and firmly intend to do so, only to forget.

The cabinetry in her bathroom?
Forgotten.

The explosion of weeds and poison ivy slowly trying to eat her house one corner at a time?
Forgotten.

The punching bag that sits unused and unloved in my carport that she has asked for multiple times so that she could use it to let out stress? 
Forgotten.

At this point, it’s a miracle she ever asks anything of me.

And it’s not just with her - although an amnesia that only touches on my sister would be a hilarious affliction - but it’s just in general.

I’ve gotten to the age where I forget everything. I don’t mean that I forget who I am or who I’m married to or what year it is or anything like that… I mean, I’ll wake up in the morning firmly planning to do something only to discover at the end of the day that I did not do it.

My concentration during the day is like a pinball that is hitting every bumper and existence and ringing every bell and not going anywhere it’s expected to go.

The only thing lately that can hold my attention sharply is my youngest dog. She has this magical ability because I have learned in four years that if I do not know where she is for even three seconds that she has been misbehaving or has something in her mouth that should not be in her mouth.

Is it plastic? Who knows?
Is it paper? Who knows?
Is it daddy’s memory? Who knows?

Is this just another beautiful thing I have to look forward to now that I am in my mid-50s? I guess I’ll have to look that up if I can remember to.

What was I talking about?