Friday, May 11, 2007

Spring Fever


Several recent, seemingly unrelated, events have led me to a troubling conclusion.

I celebrated my birthday earlier this month, and up until that time I hadn’t noticed any memory problems. It has been a different story since then.

The other day, while driving home form work, I noticed I was running low on gas. Well not me; no wait, I was low on gas, but so was my car. I did some quick math in my head, and figured out that my car had enough gas to get me home, and most of the way to work in the morning. There is a gas station a couple of miles from my office, and I planned to stop there on my way to work the next day.

The next morning, when I was about 7 miles from my suburban office building, and about 5 miles from the gas station, the low fuel warning light came on in my car. Based on some previous calculations (I think Mrs. R should receive some kind of special commendation for having lived with an engineer all these years) I had determined that my car has about 8 miles left before it runs out of fuel when the warning light comes on. Since it was only 5 miles to the gas station, I wasn’t worried.

I pulled into the gas station, stopped my car, got out, opened the gas cap, and reached for my wallet. Unfortunately for me, my wallet was sitting comfortably on the dresser at home….

From the gas station, it’s about 20 miles to my house, but only 2 miles to the office. I decided to head to my office. It was not a low stress trip; I got stopped at every freakin’ stoplight between the station and my office, burning precious fuel for 20 seconds without moving, 5 separate times.

I made it to the office and called Mrs. R, who rescued me by delivering my wallet about an hour later. When I finally filled up, I put 22.46 gallons of gas into my 22.5 gallon tank. Some people might consider that an efficient use of fuel. I am not one of those people…

One isolated occurrence of forgetfulness? No big deal, everybody has days like that.

Then…

A couple of days later while at work, I was making some notes on a drawing with a red pencil. Something distracted me, perhaps it was something shiny on my desk, and I set the pencil down.

Then the phone rang, I got a couple of e-mails, etc. and before I knew it, half an hour had passed. It was at this time that I realized that I needed my red pencil again. It was also at this time that I realized that I could not remember where I had put the pencil.

Now, it should have been no problem, since I had several more red pencils in my desk drawer. I could have easily grabbed one of them and gone about my business.

But no….

It was incredibly important to me to find that pencil, just to prove to myself that I wasn’t losing my mind. I looked everywhere for the damn thing. The pencil, not my mind...

Drawers, trash can, lunch bag, books, folders, neighbors’ desk, all to no avail. I never did find it. Probably in a hundred years or so, some archaeologist will be sifting through the detritus of my professional life and find a lone red pencil. Godspeed to him/her. I’m sure that if I looked for one-hundred years I would never find it, nor would I stop and get another pencil out of the drawer.

In my desire to find the pencil, I figured out that:

a. I had wasted 30 minutes of company time looking for a #@!#*&#@! pencil.
b. The memory deterioration curve becomes very steep in your late forties. (I’d draw a graph, but there’s already been way too much math in this story…)

I was feeling sorry for myself, bemoaning my lost youth, etc., when Mrs. R shared this story with me…

One of her students kept pestering her for help with an assignment, and Mrs. R kept telling the youngster that he needed to get his paper and bring it to her, so she could help him.

The student kept saying “But, but” and every time he spoke Mrs. R reminded him to get his paper. This went on for several minutes until Mrs. R’s classroom assistant calmly pointed out that Mrs. R was holding the youngsters’ paper in her hand…

Apparently spring fever is contagious…

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Oh, the tales I can tell along these same lines. Losing a pencil, pen, etc., becomes a daily occurrence once one reaches extreme maturity...

Oh, as far as billfold stories go... Ever try to rent a car in Miami with an expired driver's license? I did, and I didn't!!