Between the time it took me to press send on my cell phone and the first ring on my husband's phone, I forgot what it was I was calling him about.
Completely forgot. Erased from my gray matter. POOF. Gone.
When he answered I told him I couldn't recall why I'd called him but that I knew it was important.
I drove home, racking my brain as I went. After I pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition, I sat there.
This whole getting old thing isn't as fun as I thought it would be.
I've found myself forgetting if I've lathered, rinsed and repeated. I drive places and realize I've been on autopilot the entire way.
I know stress can cause lapses. Lately my life has been the Stress Olympics. I'm also very blessed. Sometimes the glass is half empty, sometimes it's half full and sometimes it's laying shattered in pieces on the floor.
We had our taxes done this weekend. Uncle Sam is requiring us to hand over an arm, a leg, several vital organs and some sort of blood sacrifice. It's not pretty. And that's not stressful either. No siree. Not one bit.
I've noticed daffodils blooming in our yard, crocuses coming up and the pink blossoms are bursting forth on Cherry trees. It's a hopeful time of year.
Getting up in the morning, my jaw is aching from being clenched all night. I have to physically un-fist my hands. The injury I sustained when I fell through the deck in December is still painful and the paperwork and insurance headache is even worse.
I alternate between feeling happy and hopeful, and fighting the desire to curl up in the fetal position under several blankies. I'm drawing the line at a binkie though.
Now if I could just remember why I called my husband...