Friday, November 30, 2007

The stuff we can never find

Keys? What keys?

Can't keep hold of keys. it seems I really don't want to open or close much at all. But keys are not the only objects that plague me. Grocery lists, cough drops, bills, pencils, poems I have scrawled on envelopes, the cup of coffee I am drinking... Whatever it is, I can pick it up, hold it my hands contemplate its uses and destination, but only half a minute later - it's no longer there and I have no idea what I did with it

I am not the only one with this problem - though for a while I wasn't sure.... A few years back I witnessed a scene that was a revelation. I was visiting a couple I know – the husband is a pianist who was getting ready to rush off to accompany a choral group's concert. He was standing in the kitchen clutching the directions to his concert location, when he and his wife realized he didnt have his dress jacket. They began to frantically search for it and finally found the jacket, smoothed it, covered the hanger with plastic. But now he discovers that although he has the jacket in hand, he no longer has the directions to the hall where he is going to play. A new search is mounted for the directions which cannot be found anywhere. A call is made to get new directions. After he leaves, I noticed the original set of directions on the floor right where he was standing when the search for the jacket began. yikes!

This sort of drama has happened to me repeatedly, except that I curse and slam as i am searching which does not really help.

It was so clear to me that my friend was thinking about where his jacket was and was not paying the slightest attention to his hands or what was in them... As he walked away his hand opened without his realizing it and the list skittered to the floor like a lost leaf. It's the thinking about something else and not paying attention that seems to be the cause...

Maisy goes for a walk early in the morning, a short one, but the terrain is not smooth. Couldn't find her cane today. We looked in every room, behind all the doors, in the car, beside all the chairs. No cane.

She went to the grocery store yesterday though where the same not-paying-attention phenom came into play. People with canes tend to put them in the grocery cart when they are pushing it around the store. That works great until they get to the car and happily stow their food, while contemplating future meals, the drive home, the next stop on their errand route. (Cane? What cane?) The last time Maisy inquired if they had found any canes, they offered a choice of a dozen that had been left behind in shopping carts. That's where we went and sure enough they had her cane which has her name and address right on it.

Go figure.