Dealing with my addled runaway brain

There was a funny happening on the way to preparing this bit of writing. The composition was underway when I had to close the file for a reason I now forget (read on), so when I tried to return to the file I had forgotten its title.

Ha-ha, not funny, as many seasoned citizens will agree. But I found the offering after a sweaty scrolling search. Yes, lately, my brain has been walking away without me, and I have to hunt for it, usually with success, although some might disagree.

And sometimes I err, but fortunately not in an injurious way except for my pride. For example, I placed my sunscreen behind my car windshield recently. When I got out and looked back, something didn’t look right. I looked again. I had installed the screen with the reflective side facing inside the car. Duh.

The other day I had to follow my brain to my car (not because of the sun screen). ... Did I already mention that? Anyway, it was a lucky search because I found my cell phone in the glove box. “Someone” apparently had placed it there for an unknown (in memory) reason, which is why when I used my house phone to find my cell phone I couldn’t hear it ring. Duh.

Recently I was looking for my eyeglasses after putting down the book I was reading. Darn, where are they? I could not locate them. So it seemed like a good idea to check the bathroom, which is where I usually read. As I looked into the mirror over the basin, it appeared that some object had been placed at the top of my forehead. Oh dear, there were my eyeglasses. Found the book, too. Argh.

When I was younger the running joke was about suffering memory loss in older age, but not due to a condition requiring medical attention. It is simply a matter of having great long-term recollections, but not short-term memories. I could relate right now happenings from kindergarten through high school and into college. But if you asked what I ate for dinner last night, it would be a struggle.

I deal with the loss by keeping a sense of humor and, more importantly, working to retain hour-to-hour and day-to-day items. This is accomplished not only by keeping a notebook handy but repeating in my mind what I was going to do next. For example: “I’m going to the kitchen to open a can of cat food (for the cats).” If I don’t make an effort to retain my next move, I’m likely to either forget why I’m in the kitchen or get a beer. Oh well, it could be worse.

As well, when I can’t recall a question that pops into my gray matter, I get tough and demand of myself to not lose the thread but concentrate. That works, although it’s not much good for snappy comebacks two hours after they were needed.

I guess that sometimes I’m like Mark Twain, who said, “When I was younger I could remember anything, whether it happened or not; but I am getting old, and soon I shall remember only the latter.” Or, “Forgetting happens. If you stress about it, it’ll happen even more.” So said Lisa Genova in her “Remember: The Science of Memory and the Art of Forgetting.”

I also like, “The only thing faster than the speed of thought is the speed of forgetfulness,” as stated by Vera Nazarian in “The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration.” Overall, I will say that I’ve had short-term memory loss for as long as I can remember. And not only is my short-term memory loss a pain, but my short-term memory loss is a pain.

Now, where’s my notebook?