My Cogs Are More than Slipping
It’s happened. My cogs are no longer meshing. Friday I had several errands to run and was concentrating on the next thing I had to do. The first was to have the oil changed in my car. That took longer than I had expected. I got a late start and there were several people ahead of me. I stopped doing my own oil change while my wife Cindy was alive. She was in a constant state of worry, checking on me every five minutes while I was under or around my car during the oil change. To give her comfort and to relieve me from her continual interruptions, I had someone else change the oil.
My next errand was going to the bank. I broke open my last package of checks and needed to reorder them before I forgot and would face the possibility of running out. Yes, I’ve done that once or twice and it is such a hassle. I have no desire to let that happen again.
My next stop was at the gas station, but my mind was on chores that were still waiting undone at home. I went inside and paid for the gas, came out, got into my car and drove away. As I left the station, I noticed that my fuel gage was exactly at the same position as when I pulled in to get the gas. DUH, then it hit me. I hadn’t pumped the fuel and drove off. I quickly turned my car around praying that no one had pulled into the fueling bay until I got back. The bay was empty and I was able to pump the gasoline that I paid for. I’d never done that before and pray that it never happens again. It’s bad enough when I go into a room and forget why I came in or what I came after, but this is taking memory loss to a place where it has never gone before.
The other day, after eating with fellow classmates at Bud Murphy’s, I took the leftovers home in a Styrofoam container and hurried to help a friend with canning. I stuck it into the refrigerator to take home. I planned to eat the leftovers for supper. But forgetful me, I left it in the refrigerator for two days before I remembered to bring it home and eat it.
I used to remember thinking, “How can a man forget to pull up his zipper on his trousers?” I am getting closer and closer to that stage in my life. If you EVER see me in that state, politely say, “XYZ.” Fix your zipper. Thank you.