I’ll admit, in addition to essentially shoving a toddler back up my ass, I also have memory loss. In short, this means that everything that annoyed me about my grandfather- the repetitive conversations, farting whilst blinking and lackadaisical sphincter, is alive and well within me.
The other day, we were both at the lower level, when hubby broke the glass frame on a painting. Now, this was a lot of work- picking up shards of glass, sweeping the entire room, picking it all up, and placing it in the trash. I believe that initially, I offered to go upstairs to get the broom and dustpan just to avoid the cleanup. Somewhere between the fourth step and the twelfth, I actually did forget why I went upstairs and sat down to a different task.
A short while late, hubby emerged from the basement and mentioned that he knew I would never remember to come back down- that he expected it of me since I’ve been forgetful before. When I asked him to give me examples, he provided this shortlist:
forgot to feed lunch to one kid, dinner to another, left the gate open and the dog got out, the oven was on…
Now, while he assures me he wasn’t saying it to make fun of me and my forgetfulness or to be an asshole, rather it was more of a, “one of the side effects is…” …
(put a pin in this)
This evening, I was reading an email and started to say a phone number to myself, so that I could put it into my contacts- before I forgot.
(take the pin out)
That is an asshole.