Okay, who took my brain?
The other day, I was doing laundry, and getting Ryan ready for school, among other things. I remember putting the detergent in, and closing the door. The appropriate time elapsed, and I went to move the clothes from the washer to the dryer....and there were no clothes in the washer. The load was sitting in the hallway where I'd left it.
This afternoon, I ran the dishwasher. I remember putting detergent in it, making sure the tap water was hot, and turning it on. This evening, Mr W is unloading it, but then I hear noises in the kitchen that sound like he's reloading it. "You put the soap in but forgot to run it." "Nuh-ah, I remember running it, I know I turned it on." "Well maybe it's the fact that the Crock-Pot <it is a a big one> is sitting right in the way of the mechanism that comes up and actually does the washing...that blocked it and the detergent is all bunched up on the dishes and the top rack of stuff is still dirty." Faaaabulous. Sigh.
Late this evening, I hear him start up the washing machine. Oh, crap! I remember the little load I threw in yesterday morning before I took Ryan to school, ran Audrey to my Mom's and went to work for some 'mandatory' training...and never moved to the dryer, which also, it seems, had something in it. I just forgot. It should count in my favor, somewhere in here, that I did finish at work and get back here to pick up all from school on time, shouldn't it?
It appears to me someone must have taken my real brain and replaced it with Folger's crystals. (remember that commercial? if you don't that means I'm oooold, so just smile and nod like you do--)
And I can tell the difference, so please bring my real brain back. Before I do something else ridiculous, like drive off to take the kids to school, but forget to put them in the van first. Or try to start the thing up using the wrong car key (oh,yes, I've done that too).
I'm taking solace in the fact that everyone in the house is able to holler, at least, if they see me start to leave the house in an embarrassing state of undress, should I forget to button my shirt or oh, I don't know, put on pants.
Thank goodness for small favors.