I’m not really forgetful

Being absent minded is sort of a way of life for me. I am forgetful. I come by it honestly, though. My mother was pretty scatter-brained and her mother was too. Neither were what we’d call ‘Alzheimer’s’ type forgetful, but I knew what my future could likely hold watching both of them.

For me, I find I usually forget things I’d told people I would do or appointments I’ve made. It means I miss meetings or accidently double book events.

Right now though, I feel I have an excuse; being out of a routine and in another major life transition means that it’s hard to have a set way of remembering things. I do have a calendar; I know I could use it more. But there is no specific routine to looking at it.

I felt further vindicated the other day when I made a small discovery. I went to my attic in search of a few items. Since I’ve been sewing a ton, I wanted to unearth my iron and ironing board (if I even still had them). There is an iron and board where I am staying, but they are pretty light duty ones. If I had mine still I knew they’d be a fairly good quality.

Just making my attic list didn’t allow me to think enough about finding them. As I mentioned, I wasn’t even sure I’d kept them. But as soon as I arrived in the attic and pulled out my list, I was able to turn to my iron immediately. It was in the first place I looked for it; on a top shelf with a plastic carrier bag over the top to keep the dust off of it. I reached for it as if I’d set it there yesterday.

Then I turned to the ironing board. In one more moment, I was fairly certain I knew where it was. But getting to it was much more of an archaeological dig. I had to move several items to see if it was beside a dresser in the closet. Sure enough it was right where I’d imagined it.

Now I know I’m not losing my mind. I just need to build in some routine.