But Am I Worried?

We are back to life as normal in humid Illinois. Bill is back to work at the accounting office, at the village office, at the church. I am back to the routine of laundry, house cleaning, meals, appointments, teaching my Sunday School class. It sounds pretty mundane, doesn't it--no big deal?

I have always had trouble remembering things even since I was a teenager. No doubt I just didn't try to remember to do things that I had either promised to do or should do. For the last many years it's been a standing joke that the card I needed to bring to a birthday celebration was always left at our home--forgotten. This summer I decided to send ecards to adults. I've remembered about half, which is an improvement. Now I'm one of those people who can be going after dirty clothes in the hamper but be sidetracked by an unmade bed and clean laundry to put away. By the time I remember to get the hamper, the washer is in the middle of the first cycle.

I probably didn't mention that while we were in CO in August, I realized that my driver's license was expired--and had been for two months! I had no recollection of receiving a reminder from Jesse White. (Bill found it on my desk under a pile of stuff.) Even though it was now three months expired, I was able to renew my license today by taking a vision test, having a new picture taken, and paying $10.

The dumbest one this week was today. Yesterday I made appointments for Bill and I to get haircuts this week--I'm at 9:00 and he's at noon Thursday (tomorrow). I landed at the salon THIS MORNING at 9:00 and sat down to wait for my hair dresser to arrive. Finally, one of the other girls asked if she could help me. When I told her why I was here, she reminded me that A. doesn't work on WEDNESDAYS! I felt so ignorant!

Arriving home I found a phone message regarding an appointment with my eye dr. tomorrow at 11:00. Now that's hair cut at nine, eye appointment at eleven Thursday; hair cut at nine, eye appointment at eleven Thursday; hair cut . . . Sorry, my children, my future looks rather . . . confusing. Feel sorry for your dad.