29 June 2008

forget me not

This is my new forget-me-not cardigan which is what those flowers look like to me. I mention it because I have had a worse week than normal for forgetting things.

On Friday, I forgot that I had a dental appointment at 9.40 even though it was in my work and pocket diaries. So I got into work at 9, opened my e-diary to see what I had to do that day and there it was – a reminder to everyone else that I would not be in the office. All of which meant I had to retrace my steps double fast. I arrived hot,and late., and the day went downhill from there.

That was only one of the things I forgot. I forgot that I promised my aunt that I would pop round and sort out some paperwork for her. I forgot that I promised to sign some grant papers. I keep forgetting people’s names – hopeless, totally hopeless. I’m not just talking about people I’ve only just met, but people I have known for years. Like my boss (honestly). I sometimes imagine that I’ll empty out my handbag and there at the bottom of it, along with all the other detritus – lipsticks, train tickets, highlighter pens, tea bags ( yes, seriously) - will be all the words and names I have forgotten. Something like this, only there would be more words.

So what is my problem (apart from age)? I do have some theories. Sometimes you forget things because you have too many things to remember – your memory gets overloaded and you need to defragment, re-order the stuff in your memory, or just throw some out. Sometimes you simply aren’t being organised. Other times you forget things because you were never engaged in the beginning. This may be a conscious decision but more frequently it’s down to daydreaming when you should have been concentrating. Put all three together and you are on the edge of an abyss of oblivion.

I think this is what is happening to me. I am tired from working long nine to ten hour days. My throat is dry and my eyes itchy from some kind of allergy (plane tree fever, I reckon). On my day off, I sit and read dull, dull stuff and don’t have the motivation to organise or make sense of it, as a consequence of which it too gets lost. I want to be somewhere else or doing other stuff instead – like looking around me for photos, making nice things, writing this.

But look on the bright side. When you forget stuff, or lose it, you always have the pleasure of finding it again. I found a key I had lost this week. I forgot that I had a copy of No Fond Return of Love . It’s now my bedtime reading and I keep unearthing pleasurable little gems. And these gold charms from a bracelet my mum bought me when I was ten – young John buried them in the garden years ago as hidden treasure. The cats dug them up a few weeks ago.

So please don’t think I’ve forgotten you if I don’t write here as often as used to. I haven’t I’m just too whacked. Forget-me-not.

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