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