The reasons I think I might be suffering from dementia, which will result in a very sad, lonely old age in a home.
Episode 1. About two plastic folders.
At work, I had a tedious project. I decided to finish it on my working from home day. I thought it would feel great, when my boss gets all sarcy on me and says ‘Oh, had a nice day off, didn’t we?’ I could shove a finished report right under his nose: There, get this, you evil slave owner!
So, I stuffed all the relevant notes into an A4 size plastic folder and made a mental note not to forget it. At the end of the working day, I left the office and got downstairs, walked all the way to the parking lot and only then remembered that I, of course, forgot the folder on my desk. I went back and got it. Having driven home, I left it in the car.
The next morning, I was taking my child to school. I was supposed to take back yet another plastic folder. They used to give us those story sacks, filled with annoying little toys and a book. We were given one every Thursday, to be returned the following Wednesday. Knowing I would forget, I lent it against the front door. However, once in the car, I realized that it was still in the house and had to go back for it. The folder made it to the school, but got left behind in the car.
I managed to again forget the work folder at home the next morning but, fortunately, remembered before I drove off, and went back for it. I then got to work, and left it in the car. By then, if I could nail it to my chest, I would.
The school story sack with plastic cows and ducklings remained in the car for at least another week. If you think I might have exaggerated this story to emphasise the point, you are, sadly, mistaken.
Episode 2. About black leggings.
I have decided, looking at my legs in the mirror, that I needed more leggings. The Topshop pair I bought a while ago seemed to be a lot better than the other, cheaper version, so I decided to get another one. So, imagine my shock when, while putting a newly purchased pair away in the chest of drawers , I noticed a totally identical pair. I stared at it, and looked at the label. TOPSHOP, it said. Same length, same size. It was as if I was having a bad dream. Because, however hard I tried, I could not recollect buying it. I must have done though, unless it is all an evil ploy by Husband to slowly drive me into insanity by placing various unexpected objects all over the house for me to find.
Episode 3. Dude, where is my car?
One Saturday morning Husband wanted the car seat out of my car. ‘Where is your car?’ He asked and I got annoyed. I mean, where could it possibly be? Why can’t he look past the end of his nose?
Sometimes, when some inconsiderate neighbours park in my space, I have to go a few meters down the road.
But the car was nowhere, not up not down the road that morning. It simply varnished.
'You must remember where you left your car?' Husband pressed on, in a very infuriating fashion.
I could not. I tried to divert the blame on to him but failed as he quickly pointed out that I was, indeed, the last person to use it the day before. In the end, I had to trace the events of the day before to figure out the location of the abandoned Skoda. I took the child to school, I went for a coffee with some friends, I met with my mother and we walked home...The car was left near the coffee shop. In the 2hrs maximum stay area. Which normally would result in a ticket and a fine, but because God loves demented people and feels sorry for them, I miraculously got away with it. Or, more realistically, because the traffic wardens skived off for the day.
Now, what I am saying is...maybe I did hold that sad bugger’s hand? Oh, and if I ever held your hand and you think I might have forgotten please do let me know.