Who Am I, and Where Do I Live?

Oh yeah, I have a blog, don’t I? Well, perhaps it might not be bad idea to do a post now and then. What do you figure?

Richard is on vacation this week and my brain must have decided to join ranks with him. I tend to get a bit muddled and forgetful when I’m really, really tired, but it’s not often that the grey matter goes totally AWOL. Eeep! Forgetting about my blog for a few days is the least of my concerns, believe me.

I never used to forget anything, and I do mean anything. Ask me the tiniest little detail about someone or something, and it was right there. So, the CFS memory blips have taken a bit of adjustment. I’ve learned to make lists and notes for some things, out of necessity, but the really important stuff stayed stuck in my head, for the most part. Until this week.

I never, never, never forget to pay bills on time. Not ever. But yesterday I was lying in bed, trying to think of a good enough reason to drag myself out of it, when one suddenly popped into my head. Oh shite! Down the stairs I flew, much to the alarm of my co-habitants, talking to myself all the way. “Please, please, please let me have paid them already.” Uh, no. There they were, still sitting in the bill rack. Not overdue, but close enough to being due that it’s touch and go whether the payments will get to the appropriate places in time by mail. Aaarrggghhh! Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, there are generally a few days’ grace for such things, but that doesn’t matter. I always get payments to their destinations with days to spare, and I don’t intend to change my habits now. Richard knew that there was no point in telling me to calm down and get them ready for tomorrow. So, he donned his jacket and shoes for a stroll to the mailbox, while I furiously wrote cheques and stamped envelopes. Of course it’s partly the bank’s fault as I used to pay everything there and there’d be oodles of time if I could still use that method. But they’ve decided to get uppity about such things and have just introduced hefty service fees, which are substantially more than the cost of postage. Like the billions they earned last year weren’t enough.

At least I knew how to sign the cheques yesterday. Even scarier than forgetting bills was forgetting how to sign my name the previous day. Seriously, I did. I know that it was due to sheer exhaustion and overheating after wandering through a very hot shopping centre for hours. But it still freaked me out a bit. I went to sign a credit card slip, which is normally such an automatic thing, but this time my hand didn’t know what to write. Freaked Stephanie out a bit, too, but I covered by saying that my hand had just cramped for a couple of seconds because I had been carrying heavy bags in it. I don’t think she bought it, though, as she suggested that I just stay in the car when we stopped to grab some food to take home for supper. And no, I wasn’t driving. Do you honestly think I’d take a chance on finding my way home when I couldn’t even remember my name? Not a chance.

I suppose that it’s probably time to stop teasing Richard about early “senior moments” now. But wait, who’s Richard? Do I know a Richard? Should I know a Richard? Uh … nope … it’s not ringing any bells. Hmm … 🙂

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