My brain is password protected
I started out this morning with a plan in my Baby Boomer head, but it’s apparent the old brain can no longer be completely trusted. I’ve put a lot of stuff in there over the years that is supposed to help me through days like today. It must be password protected. Information just doesn’t flow two ways like it used to. Some days it dangles just out of reach, and then teases me by throwing out the first half of a thought every so often. My head has a weird sense of humor.
Today I managed to mess up about every room in the house. I started in my bedroom thinking I would do some de-junking. I got as far as pulling stuff out of the closets and drawers and got called to the kitchen to settle a kid squabble. Once there I started putting away dishes and ended up reorganizing the cupboards … until I got called to the living room to settle another kid squabble. One thing led to another and before I knew it I’d been through every room stirring things up. Now it’s midnight and my bed is still piled with stuff and I can’t get in it. Doesn’t that just bite?
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