Dear Diary …
I tell you what … I can’t remember anything anymore. If it’s a to-do list, or a meeting, or a … ummm … uhhh … SEE!!!! See what I’m talking about? If it ain’t programmed into my phone … with at LEAST two notifications … I ain’t rememberin’ it.
And while it would be easy to say … “Welp … I reckon I’m gettin’ older and the ol’ brain don’t work like she used to” … I don’t believe that.
And here’s why … I can’t remember to bring my lunch with me to work … but I of course still know all the words to the “Humpty Dance” and that up-up-down-down-left-right-left-right-B-A-start gets you 30 guys on the old Nintendo game “Contra.”
So clearly I can remember stuff … so it leads me to one explanation … my brain hates me. He CAN work perfectly fine .. he just don’t wanna. He’s a lazy, hateful little jerk that wants me to forget to call my Dad on his birthday, but can still remember all about the time I was running around in the backyard and tried to jump over a branch and …. Pfffft … ruined my underwear.
Thanks a lot you stupid brain!
And further proof that age has nothing to do with it … my children are young and they can’t remember to do anything. Or at the very least … they act like they can’t.
“Hey don’t forget to bring those dirty dishes down from your room.”
Actually … no you don’t know … because when I go back upstairs the next day, all those stupid dishes are still in the exact same spot.
“Oh I forgot”
Or this one …
“Hey buddy … did you brush your teeth this morning?”
“Nobody told me!”
Oh I’m sorry … I didn’t know I needed to tell you every single time. So how about this … brush your teeth every morning and every night until the day you die. There … that cover it? Does THAT count as me “telling you?”
And one more thing … I … uhhh … oh forget it.
Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye