I have heard that the multi-tasking our generation does is causing our lack of attention to detail. I suppose I could see how talking on the phone while paying bills and trying to get the dog to sit while pondering taxes might cause one to forget what she’s doing.
This same chain of events might even cause one to look for sunglasses that are on her head, while looking for the keys that are in her hand and then saying to the person on the other end of your call, with frustration, that you can’t find your stinking cell phone.
It’s especially frustrating when they respond, “Aren’t you on it?”
It is also the reason I can’t complete a series of tasks. Take last week for instance. I had quickly walked into the laundry room and upon my arrival, I promptly forgot the reason for my haste right along with the purpose.
As I stood there trying to recall what it was that I so desperately needed, I couldn’t help but be discouraged with my lack of memory. It was then that a column about memory loss began to develop and the words flowed freely in my head.
I quickly forgot my all-too important task and moved swiftly toward our home office to jot a few things down.
Did I remember what my thoughts were upon my arrival to the home office? No. In fact I had even forgotten the subject. As I sat at the computer and tried to focus on something other than the clutter that tax season had left strewn about, Pat, my beloved spouse, appeared over my left shoulder.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“I had an idea for a column but I forgot what it was.”
“You should take some of those memory pills,” he suggested.
“That’s a great idea!” I responded. “What were those called again?”
“I can’t remember,” he said matter-of-factly. Then he walked away.
I don’t know if memory loss is a virus, but I’ll tell you this — if it is, he has it as well.
Thankfully enough, a commercial about the affliction came on the television and we were both elated and, being painfully aware of our situation, I wrote the name of the vitamin down on a piece of paper and left it in an important spot.
Sadly enough, I forgot where I put it.
But Lady Luck was on our side and when a friend bragged over dinner that they had taken the vitamins and the vitamins actually cleared the fog, Pat and I took heed. We left the dinner and stopped by the pharmacy on our way home before we could forget the name of the vitamins.
I thought this was especially important since I could no longer recall names of close friends, struggled with our own phone number and had long since tired of standing in the parking lot of the super center, wondering where I had parked the car.
“Where did you put those memory pills?” Pat asked the next morning.
Having no recollection of it, I suggested that he check the console in the car, my go-to place to the right of the stove and the crisper drawer in the fridge.
“Why would they be in there?” Pat asked.
“I have no idea,” I replied, “but stranger things have turned up in there.”
Thankfully enough, we did find the memory pills later in the week on the workbench in the garage and took the suggested dose. I suspect our memories would have been stellar by now, if only we could remember to take those memory pills every day.
We talked about our situation last weekend when Pat’s brother and his wife were in town.
“I think I heard something about that,” my dear sister-in-law said.
“But you don’t remember for sure?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” she responded.
Obviously what we have is contagious.
Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book “Are We There Yet?” You can reach her by sending an email to firstname.lastname@example.org.