So, yeah...I'm not in a position to speak on consumerism because I consume way too much. I am in a position to speak on being forgetful, though. It's just that I promised I'd never do a post about being forgetful because it just seems too easy, too cliché...and forgetfulness because of aging? Well. Been there, done that one to death. Remember? (me neither)
No one wants to think of themselves as forgetful, least of all me. Of course, my situation is unique - my keys actually do get up in the night and move from their handy location on the key-hook to a warm, snuggley place between the couch cushions and I have to act like I don't know this is happening. I have to make it seem like I just forget where I put them. Lots of running from room to room, tossing things around, going "wheeeere's my keeeeeys!!!" (with my keys looking on critically, going, okay Meryl, let's dial it down a notch). It's a strange arrangement we have, my keys and I, but I have no choice. They are irreplaceable because they're so good at getting things started. They also open a lot of doors for me...it's worth all the subterfuge.
My short-term memory loss is not due to aging because, as I might have mentioned, I'm younger than both Jennifer Aniston and Jennifer Lopez (and yes, I resolve to keep bringing those girls up until they start to look old, which we know will never happen.) Also, I have plenty of long-term memory loss as well. For instance, I don't remember much of my childhood. My sister swears we had one. I only remember wearing a bathing cap as a regular hat and some vague stirrings about Kellogg's cornflakes. I remember wondering how Coyote could be such an utter moron and that Roadrunner's smile was so smug I wanted to punch him. (maybe I was very violent as a child and I'm repressing memories?)
I've been told that there was never a winter that I wore the same mittens all season. I had the idiot string. I would pull it out of its tunnel of sleeve and marvel at the long, long string between the mittens...then lose interest and run off to play, completely forgetting them wherever they were. I lost gloves when I got older.
I still do, actually, but it's hard to explain...it's not losing? I prefer to describe it that I liked to leave them places as a welcome gift for the next person. Imagine their pleasant surprise! Hats, scarves (I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned I live in a cold part of the world?) They were all donations to other people. My mother tried to stem this incredible generosity of mine by not replacing whatever it was, hoping I'd learn my lesson. I could not be stopped, even with cold hands, I found there were millions of other items of mine to donate to the general public.
Due dates were always a big problem. Now they are completely resolved. Library fines are an excellent way to support your local library. Forgotten RSVP cards are a great way to stand out from all those "type A" prompt repliers. This way, you get to call and speak personally to the bride, the dinner party host, the event coordinator...trust me. You are more likely to be remembered, especially if you also gifted in procrastination and phone-phobia. A frantic, tense phone-call at the last minute ensures that people have to go out of their way to accommodate you and they will always remember you.
I love the element of surprise when I notice a doctor's appointment exactly 15 minutes from that very moment because I forgot to check the calendar earlier. Such an exciting drive over there! Or, when I completely forget the appointment until they call the next day and explain the $50 fee for missed appointments. I mean, our health-care system is excellent. I pay taxes, but I like to think of the $50 as my own personal donation. Karma, you know. I'll be rewarded someday. And those times I left my card in the ATM! I mean, that one just speaks for itself.
I will admit to one type of forgetfulness because it would be impossible not to. It is that I keep walking into rooms, going upstairs, going downstairs, going out into the yard, going out in the car, going...um...(trying to remember where I'm even going with this). Oh!! Right...so I'm going to all of these places on a mission. And somewhere in the journey, short or long, I get side-tracked. I forget the mission. I have to admit this one because my daughters already recognize that "walking in, stopping and standing stock-still" pose.
Them: you forgot why you came up here, didn't you, Mum.
Me: (palm up) SHHH!!! I almost got it.
Them: (elbowing each other and giggling) she forgot.
Me: No. (marching purposefully over and grabbing random object) I came for THIS. Ha.
Them: (confused) you came up to get a spoon?
Me: (knowing I have no choice but to sell it) Yes. Yes, I need a spoon. (try to exit with dignity).
I head back down to the basement, open the deep-freezer and grab a container of Moosetracks ice-cream. I take a few bites. I feel much, much better. This is totally why I needed a spoon.