For the next month you'll be subjected to the daily writings of a madwoman on a descent into her own personal writing oblivion.
Be afraid. Be very afraid.
As for today, Fair Reader, I bring you a tale that will scare the living daylights out of you. Because, you see, I am....(menacing music) dun dun DUNNNNNNNNN.........
And with age, I have found several things that are beginning to scare the daylights out of ME.
The first is my failing memory. Mom always said I had the memory of an elephant, and that really used to be the case. I could remember names and dates and places and what I wore and what the band played and who the members of the band were and what they wore and what time we left and ... But here lately the brain cells seem to be misfiring.
Heck, they don't even seem to be loaded half the time.
Take today, for instance. I had to go around the office to take a one-question survey. It entailed me speaking with every person in the building face-to-face. Now, I've been working in this building for four years. I know everyone there by name. Really I do. But for some odd and strange reason when I went up to them to ask the question, although I knew I knew who they were, I could not come up with a name for half of them to save my immortal soul. This from the woman who used to tease her husband unmercifully because he could never remember anyone's name.
Uh, would someone please pass the crow?
In addition, I find that if I don't write things down they also end up in Never Never Land. Appointments, things to do, things to buy, etc. tend to fall by the wayside. Even words I once loved and could come up with at the drop of a hat elude my atrophied mind.
It's enough to make me crazier than I normally am.
And then there's the hair.
Oh yes, the hair.
Today, as I have become used to doing every couple of months, I had to yank a great, long WHISKER out of my FACE. This time it was half an inch long.
Let me say that again for emphasis:
IT WAS HALF AN INCH LONG.
And black. And not one person was kind enough to say, "Hey, didja know you have a HUGE HAIR growing out of your FACE??? Don'tcha think you oughta PLUCK it or use some NAIR or maybe even SHAVE or something?"
My faith in humanity is lessened by degrees of great proportion.
I mean, if I had half a roll of toilet paper clinging to my shoe, wouldn't you tell me? If I had a thread from my unravelling underwear climbing over my waistband and down my pant leg, would you not take pity on me?
I know. It's because I'm old. And old people are supposed to grow hair in odd places, right?
Just call me the Bearded Lady......and you are?