I was running a tad late the other morning, caused as usual by a few too many minutes in front of what a non-techno friend calls “the machine”, aka my computer. Amazing how it can suck up time like a chamois on a wet car.
I steered my car around a corner on my way to pick up my friend and it occurred to me that my recollection of putting on my sandals was a bit hazy.
I wiggled my left foot and then carefully moved around the toes on the gas pedal. They felt the same. I did remember putting a black sandal on my right foot, but there the memory stopped. It occurred to me that my red sandals do exactly the same kind of stretchy, loopy thing around the toe and over the arch. Oh dear.
I arrived in my friend’s driveway and was able to pause and look down. All was well. Another dodgy moment averted.
I’m not sure whether to be reassured or not by the fact that this is not a new occurrence. I can recall sitting in boring meetings at work ten years ago and playing a silent game with myself of, “what am I wearing?” The principal at the front of the auditorium would be droning on about some pointless administrative detail and I would stare ahead, trying to remember what it was I had put on my body that morning.
I can also arrive at my destination after a good half-hour’s drive with no clear idea of how I got there. Oh sure, I stopped when I was supposed to, and didn’t leave a wake of bodies in the roadway behind me (I don’t think), but the details of the trip evaded me.
I like to think that my mind is operating on a higher plane, that it doesn’t become consumed with everyday mundane details. Unfortunately, in reality my drifty moments are usually caught up in wondering about the origin of polydactyl cats, or how to stop the chipmunks from eating all our hosta.