It’s Saturday morning and I put away the remains of a craft project and see a book on my table that I need to mail.
Before I can look up the address, I notice the iron still sitting out (though thankfully not still on).
Putting it away reminds me of the load I left in the dryer the night before.
While discarding the lent, I see the pancakes cooling on the kitchen counter.
I wrap them up and pop them in the freezer, my eye catching that pound of ground turkey I was going to cook two days ago.
With a sigh, I determine to get that done and stop to think of which recipe I should use.
I return to my room to fold my clean clothes and it becomes quite clear I forgot to buy dryer sheets. Again.
It is then that I resign myself to the fact that I should keep an ongoing list so I don’t keep forgetting these things.
I search for scrap paper on my desk and see a note with a name scribbled on it.
The name of the winner of my book giveaway.
The book that is still lying there, packaged but unaddressed.
Is this what it’s like to grow old?