Sigh

In my fifth decade I had begun to imagine what old age was like when I noticed the first lapses of memory. I would turn the house upside looking for my glasses until I discovered that I had them on, or I'd wear them into the shower, or I'd put my reading glasses over the ones I used for distance. One day I had breakfast twice because I forgot about the first time, and I learned to recognize the alarm in my friends when they didn't have the courage to tell me I was recounting the same story I had told them a week earlier. By then I had mental list of faces I knew and another lists of the names that went with each one, at the moment of greeting I didn't always succeed in matching the faces to the names. Gabriel Garcia Marquez Memories of My Melancholy Whores

Fortunately I have friends who will let me know straight away that I am losing it. And instead of not telling me that I've told them a story before they'll say, "I read it on your blog."

And now I'm into my sixth decade and it's not getting any better.

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When I came back from the hospital late this afternoon, where I had been helping a Japanese Doctor do some advanced ultrasound stuff, I turned the house upside down looking for that VERY important flash-drive on which I had stored all the images and videos of the procedure. I was in a panic! Had I dropped it from my pocket on the walk home from the hospital (it's only 1K away), or did i put it on the table when I was talking with a colleague at Spinellis café?

Five minutes of getting ready to go back and redo the back-up, thinking of excuses for not sending the files on to Tokyo immediately...

And there it was. In the USB port.

I had already plugged it into to the computer and then become distracted by emails which had taken me to my online chess games!

Sigh.

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OK, off for POETS day drinks. Now, where did I place those keys?

E@L