A Rural Journal: {I remember nothing.}

So I'm reading this book called "I Remember Nothing" by the late Nora Ephron.

It's a collection of short essays on the foibles we encounter later in life.  One of them being memory.
Or the lack thereof. I find myself in this situation more than not. And it can be quite disturbing at times. Especially since my dad passed away in 2007 after a long unsuccessful battle with Alzheimer's.

Back to the book, the author initially reflects on her inability to remember people's names, whether she ever actually met them and if so, the details of their last encounter. I would describe that situation as rather common -- not being able to place a face with a name.

I could only wish my memory mishaps involved something so typical as the uncomfortable "who is this person?" scenario.

My memory lapses tend to be more short-term. For example,

I am apt to boil food such as potatoes and eggs on the stove dry, in a matter of a few minutes;

I'll take sandwich makings out of the fridge, then a minute or two later, can't locate the bologna which I find I have put back into the fridge before putting it on the bread;

I have trouble remembering the name for orchids. I always want to call them lilies;

I forget to clean the bathrooms (well, not really, but that's my story);

I'll walk outside with one purpose in mind, then stand 20 feet from the back door, mumbling Why the hell did I come out here anyway? (holding a bag of garbage in my hand -- true story).

With my family history as it is, obviously these frequent what the f*ck? moments startle me. 

And there's really no scientific method to determine whether it's a normal facet of aging, menopause or something much more serious.

I've thought about taking a supplement for better brain function, but predictably, I can't remember the name of it.

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