I Wish I’d Remembered To Tighten The Bottle Cap Before I Shook The Gravy Browning

Early onset of dementia or a lifetime habit of doziness?  You decide. 

I keep doing little jobs like bringing in a cup of tea or turning on the dishwasher, then realising I have no memory of it happening.  How weird is that?  I peeled an apple for the gerbil then threw it in the bin (the apple, not the gerbil; but you are wise to ask).   I’d like to think it’s because my head is in the poetic clouds forming literary masterpieces but the truth is my head is more often in the prosaic clouds forming questions like, ‘Will it rain if I hang out the washing?’

I am only 46 so I suspect it’s not really dementia; which leaves me with the conclusion that I am perennially dozy and I need a project to focus my mind.  I miss studying.  I think this particular behaviour has only manifested itself since I finished my degree and it will go away again if I have something to do.*

*Now to contradict myself:

By the way, the incident of the title happened when we were first married and was a joint effort – I forgot to tighten the cap of the bottle before I gave it to the Hub to shake.  Our kitchen walls looked like something Jackson Pollock might have painted when he was having a funny tummy day.

From:http://images.google.co.uk

People who say it cannot be done should not interrupt those who are doing it.  Anonymous.

People who say it should not be done have obviously just come across their first Jackson Pollock painting.  Tilly Bud.

Thinking about it, it is early onset of dementia: I got married at twenty-one – how crazy is that?  The Hub was twenty – Tory Boy’s almost-age.  No wonder my mother went nuts. 

Ahh, that explains everything: it’s genetic.  If you want evidence, just listen to what my boys did this week:  Spud Bud was playing football and scored a hat trick.  His celebration was to slide along the ground on his knees.  Trouble is, he forgot he was playing on astroturf… <wince>.

Tory Boy was invited to a party where he didn’t know anyone except his flatmate.  Tory Boy wore his favourite granddad shirt, similar to this one:

From: http://images.google.co.uk/ 

He got funny looks all night and he couldn’t help wondering if it was because he was the only non-Indian there.  Finally, his Indian flatmate took him to one side to ask him if he had worn the Nehru shirt to try to fit in, because it really wasn’t necessary and could even be considered a little patronising…

From: http://images.google.co.uk/ 

Fortunately, everyone saw the funny side once TB explained, and it was a good icebreaker.  But it just goes to show

1. No matter what our background, we are all the same, really.
2. Dopey is as dopey does.
3. I have bad genes and my children are paying for it.