The Prize

Each week, my husband and I share stories about our latest addle-brained behaviors. (Yes, we are desperate for entertainment at our house.) We have a little contest to see who does the dumbest thing so we can determine who wins the stupid trophy for the week. I’m not talking about misplacing a set of keys or forgetting where your car is parked. That kind of stuff is for lightweights. I’m talking about the kind of forgetfulness that gets you on waiting lists at assisted living facilities. We’ve already given our daughter a heads up so she knows what kind of accommodations we are looking for.

My husband won the prize this week. He came home from work and asked me to look down at his feet, not for bowing purposes, but to make an observation. After looking past the gunk on his work boots, I realized that he had on two different boots. To be fair to the man, a few years ago I wore two different shoes to work. Mind you, middle school students don’t notice if there is a test or an assignment due most days, but boy howdy, show up with a fashion faux pas and they wake up real fast. 

Last week we tied for the prize. I opened my silverware drawer and found a brick of cheese nestled among the knives. It would make sense to me if I found the cheese cutter in the fridge and could then blame it on a simple mix-up. Nope. Just plain dumb. My husband needed a new wallet so he drove across town to purchase one on sale. When he went to pay for it, he realized that he had left his old wallet at home. Needless to say, he is still using his tattered billfold until the planets align again.

Three weeks ago, I won the trophy. I was desperately searching for the remote control, digging through the couch cushions and checking under the easy chair. Just as I was about to give up and look for the power button on the TV, I realized I was holding the remote. I think this one even scared my husband.

Today, I’m pretty sure I might be in the running for the next honor. I went to the grocery store and came out with a bajillion bags of groceries. Just as I was about to leave, I realized that I forgot a few important items. So I bustled back into the store and picked up my straggling items. (I tried not to go through the same checker’s line...didn't work.) As I headed for the door, I heard the checker girl say, “Maam, you forgot your bag of groceries.” I thanked her and mumbled something about being very busy as I clutched my bag and hustled toward the exit. The whole truth is that I quit using the drive-up service many years ago due to my driving all the way home several times without picking up my groceries. Now, I’m going to have to tether myself to the shopping cart and hope for the best.

I wish these stories weren’t true, but the truth of the matter is that I have to face the truth of the matter, gray matter, that is. The brain is a complex and baffling organ. Despite the invention of post-it notes, pill organizers and remote control caddies, we all have moments that threaten our link to sanity. My suggestion is to adopt my grandmother’s attitude. Shortly after she started to lose some of her memory agility I asked her what she planted in her garden. She replied with a smile, “Oh, I don’t remember. We’ll just have to see what comes up.”