I always put things I need in a “safe place” so I’ll know where they are when I need them. When the time comes, I can never remember where I put them.
I certainly hope I’m not the only one who goes through this. Last time, it was a hammer. So, when I was putting pictures on our walls, there was I, pounding the tiny nails in with an ice cream scooper.
The ability to remember, is odd. I can’t remember what I talked to my wife about yesterday (I know what you’re thinking), but I can tell you the names of every childhood friend.
My Dad was the same way. Had he lived past 79, I’m absolutely sure he would have been the Dex guy. The man was a walking phone book. You could ask him for the number of anyone he cared about and he would instantly rattle off the number. Tell him about something he did or said yesterday, and he would draw a blank.
I know people who have photographic minds. They remember everything. There’s something horrific about that. The beauty of me being a moron is that I can’t remember certain things that I want to forget and they can’t do that.
Perhaps I’ll cease being a moron at some point, but I don’t like my odds. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to write my blog…
See you tomorrow.
I’m an author and a comedian, so most of my material comes from my twisted perspective on my life’s experience.
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