Something sort of hit me yesterday, a realization of something disturbing. Devastating, really. It all came to a head yesterday when I was trying to remember how and when I made a purchase for the church. It happened not only once, but twice. I got a statement saying I had ordered ink cartridges, but I couldn't remember ever receiving the ink. I opened the drawer, and there was the ink. I DON'T REMEMBER PUTTING IT IN THERE. It may have only been two weeks ago. How can I not remember two weeks ago?
I used to remember birthdays, and who said what to whom and when. I was the go-to-gal for information. Suddenly, I need a go-to-gal. Who's gonna keep track of me?
Don't think for a minute that I'm basing my memory issue on just a couple incidents, and I shouldn't think it to be a big deal. It finally dawned on me that I've been struggling to remember a variety of things that people at church have asked me about for months. I would pass them off as things that others shouldn't expect me to remember, but honestly they are things that I expect myself to remember. I've felt a little incompetent, if truth be told.
Then...today...came the straw that broke the camel's back.
Remember my scary incident at the office when the man banged on the front doors? Remember how jumpy I have been? Remember how I am always going to keep the door locked and not let anyone in unless they have a key, know the password, and give the secret, sacred handshake? Well, guess who discovered that she hadn't locked the front door this morning, only AFTER she had been there for 3 hours. Yeah. That would be me. The scaredy cat.
See? I'm losing my mind. Someone who is afraid of intruders does not forget to lock their doors. How could they forget, unless they were becoming senile?
Can that happen at 36?