There are a number of things about which my mind will always and forever draw a blank.
My kid’s bedrooms. Oh, I know they are there; I smell them all the way from the front door on a fairly regular basis. The inevitable truth about which I constantly draw a blank is that they need to be cleaned once in a while. Even when I clean my “whole” house, the mind just goes blank about their bedrooms. (It’s no doubt due to some trauma, either from being made to clean my room as a youth or attempting to make my kids clean theirs in my dotage.) At this point, should a house robber enter our domicile through one of their rooms, he would leave defeated and utterly convinced the house had already been ransacked.
Receiving stolen goods, er, packages in the mail. I can, only moments before, be complaining about why the heck such-and-such hasn’t arrived yet via USPS or UPS or DHL (so sorry if I left anyone out) and still have no idea what’s inside the package that just landed on my doorstep. NO IDEA. It’s like Christmas morning every time (except that even Christmas mornings aren’t like Christmas morning anymore what with the fact that I buy my own Christmas presents, too--see Birthday Girl Gets Drunk on Wheat and Fumes yada yada yada).
My kid’s bedrooms. Oh, I know they are there; I smell them all the way from the front door on a fairly regular basis. The inevitable truth about which I constantly draw a blank is that they need to be cleaned once in a while. Even when I clean my “whole” house, the mind just goes blank about their bedrooms. (It’s no doubt due to some trauma, either from being made to clean my room as a youth or attempting to make my kids clean theirs in my dotage.) At this point, should a house robber enter our domicile through one of their rooms, he would leave defeated and utterly convinced the house had already been ransacked.
Receiving stolen goods, er, packages in the mail. I can, only moments before, be complaining about why the heck such-and-such hasn’t arrived yet via USPS or UPS or DHL (so sorry if I left anyone out) and still have no idea what’s inside the package that just landed on my doorstep. NO IDEA. It’s like Christmas morning every time (except that even Christmas mornings aren’t like Christmas morning anymore what with the fact that I buy my own Christmas presents, too--see Birthday Girl Gets Drunk on Wheat and Fumes yada yada yada).
Cars. I don’t care about cars. I don’t know what kind of car you drive, I don’t know what kind of car I drive (it's blue and beat up; that's all I need to know). Makes and models are all Greek to me. I might manage to remember yours is a huge white SUV but should you chance to wave at me from said SUV, and your windows are tinted and I am wearing my glasses instead of my contacts and it has been a while since The Spouse and I have managed to convince the Middle Child that food and water (and ice cream) will be withheld until she makes short work of the layer of grime on my auto’s windshield so that I can see your actual face, I will have no idea who you are. None. Whatsoever.
In point of fact, a few days ago, as I returned home from the school pick-up run, I pulled alongside the communal mailboxes in order to retrieve the latest crop of Netflix DVDs (without which we would wither and die or, perhaps, read more books) when a car pulled up behind me. I felt this driver really needed to get a clue and just go around me but she didn’t. So, I slowly inched forward. So did she. So, I inched up more and so did she. This was frustrating because I really wanted to get my DVDs but she just hovered behind me until I inched and inched and inched so far forward that I had pulled into my driveway at which point I saw that it was a he not a she and that it was my husband and he was waiting for me to get the heck out of the way so he could pull into the garage.
In point of fact, a few days ago, as I returned home from the school pick-up run, I pulled alongside the communal mailboxes in order to retrieve the latest crop of Netflix DVDs (without which we would wither and die or, perhaps, read more books) when a car pulled up behind me. I felt this driver really needed to get a clue and just go around me but she didn’t. So, I slowly inched forward. So did she. So, I inched up more and so did she. This was frustrating because I really wanted to get my DVDs but she just hovered behind me until I inched and inched and inched so far forward that I had pulled into my driveway at which point I saw that it was a he not a she and that it was my husband and he was waiting for me to get the heck out of the way so he could pull into the garage.
Actually, I lied. It was my neighbor whose garage butts right up next to mine (and whose car I really should know by sight) yet, whom I feel should have stopped to get her own mail, allowing me the opportunity to stop and get mine without feeling as if her car were breathing hot fuel-injected breath down my neck. Except that it was Columbus Day and there was no mail delivery and somehow she knew this even though she has been in this country for less than five years and I have been here, um, a whole lot longer.
The fact that there is no mail service on holidays. Gets me every time.
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there are different kinds of dumb and I am conversant with them all
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