THE ABSENT-MINDED PROFESSOR

It can’t be called Altzhiemer’s or even standard dementia because both of those things are associated with advancing years.  While it is true my age is creeping up there, I have been scatter brained my whole life – age has nothing to do with this. 

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

A couple stories to demonstrate my point:

Last week the man of the house asked me where the cattle auction sale sheet had gone to.  He had stuck it to the fridge door with a magnet a few weeks ago and now it was gone. 

(You must understand here that we don’t have cattle.  What was a cattle sale flyer doing on my fridge?)  When I had discovered this paper – all rumpled and scribbled on and fastened low on the door – I had thought to myself “Oh those darling little grandsons!  Hanging stuff on Grandma’s fridge like that!” and had taken it down and thrown it away … part of my de-cluttering resolution for 2019.  That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

His story is that he put it on the fridge door, and that while he was doing this task he had told me that he wanted to keep it because he’s thinking of buying a couple feeders this year.  I swear he did no such thing.

Either he dreamt he told me.  Or he thought he would tell me but didn’t get around to it.  Or he’s losing HIS mind.  Or I’m going deaf.  I am pretty darned sure I would remember him telling me to keep a cattle auction flyer because I have been after him to get a couple beef for years.

Then again, there’s that scatter-brained thing I’ve lived with all my life …

One of my sons came home with a report card at around Grade 4 or so, with the teacher’s remarks saying that some days trying to get him to pay attention in class was like saying “Earth calling spaceship, come in please!”  Although I sympathized with her, I really wasn’t the one to talk to; my teachers had said the same kinds of things about me.  One of them even told me that I was destined to grow up to be an absent-minded professor.  At the time I didn’t know what that was, but spot on Mrs Slusar!  Spot on.

My Grandpa Nixon was a day dreamer, I’ve passed it on to my kids, and at least two of my grandchildren show definite signs of inhabiting other dimensions.  Our kind make the world an interesting place to live, don’t you think?  That also is my story, and I will stick to it.

Co-existing with more grounded folks can present problems though.  Take this past weekend, for instance. 

The winter doldrums have set in – people are looking to break up the monotony of January.  Saturday my solution was to go off to the city; me, my daughter and her toddler took the day off for some girl time.  At the end of the day we were treating ourselves to a nice supper out – and trying to wrangle the two year old into sitting down and leaving her boots and socks on – when a text conversation with my sister started up.  They were looking for something to do too.  I immediately invited them for supper and a card game the next night, but since things were so lively at the table I told her I would call her about the details.  She said sure.  The absent-minded professor took it from there.

I got home and told my husband we had company coming.  I got up and cleaned up the whole house.  I put a pot roast in the slow cooker and made a dessert.  I did everything I needed to prepare for guests.  They finally had to call and confirm the invitation.  I don’t know what I would have done with all that food if they hadn’t showed up.  Sheesh!

It’s all the absent-minded professor’s fault.  That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it!