Odd things have been happening to me lately. While preparing the supper the other day, I went from the kitchen into the study and then couldn’t remember why I’d gone in there. I still, a few days later, don’t know why. Haven’t got the faintest idea. It remains a puzzle. Then a couple of days ago I had some rubbish in one hand and my car keys in the other and I threw away the keys. It wasn’t very nice retrieving them either. Today, deciding that I really should get a plate on which to cut up an apple, I walked into the sitting room without it. Considering I’d spent some time weighing up whether I should or shouldn’t get the plate I was somewhat surprised.
Occasionally I am in mid sentence when I completely forget what I’m talking about. And yet on those occasions I can be pretty quick off the mark in coming up with an alternative, something that at least sounds plausable and doesn;t give the game away. At other times, I find myself slightly panicky mid sentence, as it dawns on me that I might have already had this particular conversation with the very same person already. It’s just possible that I am repeating an anecdote or something I’ve already mentioned before.
It brings to mind memories of when my sister or I would say, gently, to one of the oldies in the family, “Yes you did tell me that” (several times actually) and pretend it was worthy nevertheless of hearing again, though it often wasn’t.
I’ve given this matter some thought and have concluded that mostly it is the boring, mundane and trivial things that I find myself getting in a pickle over or forgetting – that is when I eventually remember them and can evaluate properly. Some things are of course a matter of having a diciplined approach for example, I really don’t have to start the washing, see that the floor is dirty and go and get the hoover thus starting another task prior to finishing the first. Or, having dug up some plants today that I had every intention of planting somewhere else, but got waylaid when I looked around and noticed that the plum trees need pruning and set about that instead. I never did get back to the plants and they are now sitting where I left them, wilting.
And so, I have considered the why’s to this annoying affliction and as I am in my mid forties and reasonably healthy, have ruled out senile dementia, though I suppose early onset of dementia is possible. I have also ruled out any associated scary girl stuff because I really don’t feel old enough for that. Also it doesn’t seem to be especially age related, since a friend of my son has told me each time he visits all about his head injury and propensity towards fits and he’s only 16. Which leaves me with the conclusion that I really don’t like the trivial, boring and mundane. And where did I put the Parmesan cheese? I know I bought it as I went to the shop especially for it, no matter that I came out with a whole load of stuff I barely remember buying. It must be there somewhere.
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