So today, I’ve brought this whole Covid-not-knowing-what-day-of-the-week-it-is thing to a whole other level.
I’d just gotten home from my morning walk and found a text from my daughter. I read it while putting away kitchen clutter, then decided to dash off a quick note of my own.
This weekend was one of our nephews’ birthday.
I did the only logical thing. I asked my daughter how our grandson’s birthday went this last weekend. The grandson whose birthday is in August.
My daughter’s reaction was a long Huh????
My multi-tasking skills must be slipping. I used to be able to hold any number of unrelated thoughts, plans, and issues in my head at the same time while simultaneously fixing dinner, sorting laundry, and setting out my clothes for work the next day.
And at my age, gaffes like this might even trigger a round of phone calls through the rest of the family, checking to see if anyone’s noticed anything lately about Mom.
My Guy, though, has my back.
Our beloved cat Satchel died six years ago.
I told him about my whacko text and that daughter will likely be calling him soon. His response, “Don’t worry. I’ll just tell her you’re feeding Satchel.”