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It’s official—I am losing my mind.
Full-blown amnesia and premature dementia have been threatening to break out for a while now, and in their milder, meditation-relaxation induced forms, welcome even—refreshing change from fastidious, check the door is locked twice anxiety of long gone but not long forgotten younger, highly strung days.
Sure I may never be able to remember people’s names this lifetime, an at times endearing like a mad professor—at least I like to imagine so—but probably professionally damaging habit-come-mental-block—not a selling point probably when one is trying to run a business; and I may never know why I can not for the life of me easily learn the words to songs—not completely true, for I find I can do most things when mind is applied and heart engaged, and perhaps music, for which my faculty is more implicit yet less pursued than other pursuits, deserves to be given a fairer hearing.
But where was I? It seems to have happened again…
With relative time but not pressure on my side when packing for a now embarked overseas trip, an exception to the norm of upending drawers into bags as the taxi draws up along side, I really had no excuse to leave my costs-$200-to-replace-and-I-have-urgent-work-to-do laptop power cord behind me, or to compound matters further, board the plane with recently purchased protective inner sleeve for very same computer in the airport lounge.
On the plus side, I did remember to pack a notebook and pen—that’s notebook as in fits in my back pocket—and somewhat chastened, calluses not seen since university days forming on fingers so long has it been since a paragraph wrote by hand, calluses red and stinging like rebuke and reminder for carelessness blatant, I composed these words in-flight, unable to be re-charged laptop failing me finally.
So my mind has failed me as well. Not for the first time to be sure…