I was going to blog yesterday about being forgetful, but I forgot.  Welcome to the golden years.  I used to have an excellent memory.  When looking at houses to buy if I saw eight in one day I vividly remember each floor plan in detail. I  could remember what I had last time in a restaurant, even if I hadn’t been there for a year. I could remember phone numbers, birthdays, and could add in my head.  I could go into a room and actually remember what I was getting there. I never needed a shopping list and came home with everything I needed.  

Good-bye to all of that.  These days I have replaced my memory with sticky notes, a palm pilot, calling myself and leaving a reminder on voicemmail, and putting things I need to take to the car in front of the door so I will see them on the way out.   Of course this means I need to remember to do all of these things, so I do them the second I think of it.

I have at times been very disturbed by my failing memory.  I jump from simply forgetting my grocery list to picturing myself drooling in a nursing home with a blank bewildered look on my face. Fact, I forgot the grocery list and  live independently and work three days a week at a job that requires intelligence and skills.  Not even close to walking through the nursing home door.  So I’ve decided to just accept that this old mind is like a computer and will slow down as it becomes fuller.  I have to admit that I feel  good when someone else forgets.  I love it. It makes me normal.  I have decided to accept the slips of my mind. When I am not sure if I told someone something I will say,” Did I mention?”  

I forgot to remember to write about forgetting yesterday, but I remembered today. That’s good enough.