I Can't Recall. . .

I have never understood the saying “a memory like an elephant”. Maybe that just highlights my overall lack of knowledge regarding pachyderms. But I gather from the way it’s used that elephants have great memories. And I’m sure there’s probably an opposite axiom, concerning forgetful mammals, something like “a memory like a seahorse”, or a hamster, perhaps, but I can’t remember what that saying is, so I’ll just say that my own memory is very unelephantlike.

Today, I forgot where I put my sunglasses. Which is weird, because I don’t usually forget little things like that. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve misplaced car keys in my life, and, for the record, they’re never gone for good. I would need a lot more hands to count how many times I’ve forgotten to return a phone call, show up for an appointment, or take a medication. A ten day course of antibiotics usually takes me the better part of a month to get through. And I’m constantly amazed at the amount of friends I have when I’m notoriously forgetting to call them back, or respond to an email. When I get those reminder calls from doctors’ or dentists’ offices, I’m always surprised by them. Like, “I’m supposed to be there at ten tomorrow? Really? Who decided that?” Oh. I did. When I scheduled it six weeks ago. Then I scramble for a babysitter and cancel whatever else I’ve double-booked in that time slot.

I have a calendar that I write these things down on, but I forget to look at it! I think I’m going to find some success setting calendar reminders on my phone, now that my husband pointed out I could be doing that. But, so far, it’s been confusing. The ring is totally different than my cell phone ring, so I ignore it, thinking it’s someone else’s phone. The other day, this guy from work and I were walking around trying to see where that unfamiliar sound was coming from and just when we’d get close, it would stop. Back to work. Then, there it is again. He finally said, “I think it’s coming from your pocket. That’s why it always seems so close.” I pulled out my phone and it said I had a lunch meeting with the American Red Cross, which I was in the process of getting set for. As I walked to the car, I realized I heard that same sound when I was in the grocery store the other night. My phone and I still don’t know all there is to know about each other, but I did manage to locate a chamber where I had stored that other thing that I missed, which was a reminder to send something in to school with my son. Something I forgot.

I make lists for the grocery store, so that I won’t forget what we need, but then I almost always forget the list. This endless cycle has led to me being a “regular” at Super Target. The cashiers all know me, and I’ll probably be invited to all of their children’s weddings one day. I’m careful not to wear red shirts and khaki pants because then people will start thinking I work there. Which might be a better solution anyway.

But, the sunglasses mattered to me. They only cost ten dollars, and I bought them three or four years ago (I can’t remember, exactly) at Super Target. Because I’m there . . . ALL. THE. TIME. And they fit perfectly. Even for running, which I do a lot of. It’s hard to find a pair of sunglasses that you can run with. Ones that don’t move, but aren’t too tight, which would be equally annoying. I’d rather not run without sunglasses this time of year, because the squinting is only going to etch more lines on my face. Then I’ll be wrinkled and forgetful, and I might as well sit around and knit or play Bingo and just forget about going running. Which, given my memory-handicaps, shouldn’t be too hard.

The worst part of this is that I can remember cleaning them yesterday, wearing them to the frozen yogurt shop, sliding them up on my head and using them as a headband. I remember wearing them upstairs as I went to take a shower. And then that’s it. My memory after that, concerning my sunglasses, was wiped clean by that blue flashy thingy that Will Smith toted around in Men In Black. I wish I could at least remember meeting Will Smith, but I don’t. I think they’re really gone. My sunglasses and Will Smith. I’ve searched everywhere I can think of and it’s like my sunglasses never existed. There’s no trace of them.

I guess I have no choice but to go to Super Target for the eight trillionth time this month. It seems like there’s something else I needed to get while I’m there, but I can’t remember what it is. . .