Today, Kit asked me, “If we remember, why don’t we have rememories?”
“You might as well ask me who ate all the ice-cream. I have absolutely no idea,” I replied without displaying a trace of guilt.
Kit peered closely at me. “It was you!” he squeaked. So, maybe I displayed a little guilt. But my point is….I can’t remember my point.
When you reach a certain age (45), you tend to find that all your exercise consists of running around looking for things, that you didn’t lose nearly as often when you were younger (44). Things like your phone, your car… your mind. There are several tried and true ways to get around this.
By far the most popular technique is blaming a loved one for moving (hiding) things (this technique is ineffective for those who live alone- I know because for the first few months I tried it, I spent my time muttering, “Who the bloody hell put that there?! Oh…that would be me.”) The second technique is to live in a single room and own so few possessions, that if you lose anything, you just stand in the middle of the room and turn around until you see it. This method is recommended by Kit, who is always banging on about meerkats not needing possessions, despite owning a whole room full of books, toys, bread crusts and dead beetles.
Widely accepted as the most sensible (boring) technique is writing down everything, and referring to it often. Kit has devised a better method, solely for my benefit, as he informs me he is too young to be stupid enough to forget everything. It relies on me telling him everything important. The consequences of this vary between comical and disastrous depending on who is listening. The following incident is an example of this.
Before a recent grocery shopping trip, I had asked Kit to remind me to pop into the pharmacy, as I needed to purchase several items unavailable at the supermarket. I did not ask him to remind me what the aforementioned items were. I was as pleased as punch when he reminded me in a crowded supermarket, in his most officious voice, “Remember to go to the pharmacy for haemorrhoid cream Mum.” When I say pleased as punch, I mean as pleased as being punched. Quite hard. In the face. Why couldn’t he have reminded me about the second item on my list, face cream?!
In future, I will be utilising the method of remembering that is widely considered to be boring.