Hubby made a remark this week that really surprised me. He said he has a photographic memory. I struggled to maintain my composure as I asked if he was serious. He was.
“Well then,” I replied, “I need to show you a picture of a raised toilet seat so you won’t have any further trouble remembering that little detail.”
“I remember there is a smiley face on it,” he proudly declared.
This is true. Recently, in a fit of despair, I used pink and blue nail polish to paint a smiley face and a heart on the underside of the toilet seat. I thought perhaps the incentive of a smiling, loving wife would help him remember this little courtesy. Of course by the time he actually discovered it, I had forgotten how to smile.
I do any little thing I can to help hubby with his memory. Not that mine’s much better. Yesterday, in a span of two minutes, I laid an important file down somewhere in this house and twenty-four hours later I am still looking for it. The house isn’t all that messy, and the file is bubblegum pink, so it should be easy to locate.
Last week I was on top of things for nearly 4 hours. I got up early, started the laundry, served hubby breakfast in bed, put together three pans of cheese potatoes for a church luncheon, cleaned up the kitchen, bathed the baby, and was having a very productive morning of homeschooling when I realized the potatoes should be hot, bubbly, and at the church rather than still sitting in the refrigerator.
I dashed around the kitchen, using all available methods to get the potatoes to cook. I microwaved, heated on the stove top, and transferred a little at a time to the hot pans in the oven. At one point I let out a little half laugh, half grunt and daughter asked what was so funny. I replied, “Do you have any idea how many people tell me how organized they think I am?”
She laughingly encouraged me with, “I guess they don’t really know you, do they?”
I was nearly ready to walk out the door when I realized I had not yet showered and was wearing the previous day’s rumpled t-shirt and dirty shorts that I had pulled on in my haste to get the day started. Guess I wasn’t as on top of things as I thought.
Daughter took over the potato transfer while I rushed upstairs to try to make something presentable out of my appearance. I slapped on some deodorant, put on clean clothes, poufed up my hair so it wouldn’t look greasy, and arrived at the church sans make-up and twenty minutes late. Somehow I managed to scrape my arm in two places and almost dropped the potatoes as I was taking them through the door, but was relieved to find that the luncheon had not yet started.
The rest of the ladies looked fabulous and unhurried in nice clothing that had actually been ironed and hair that had been washed. I dropped off the potatoes and headed home thinking I would take a shower and regroup so that I could regain some of that great feeling that goes with being on top of things. It’s such a rare thing in my life to actually accomplish anything, let alone accomplish a full day’s tasks.
By the time I arrived home I remembered that I had not yet started an article due that afternoon. The baby refused to take a nap and fussed the rest of the day, hubby asked for help with one of his projects, the older kids needed assistance with various assignments, I had a few phone calls to return, the goats escaped, and for some inexplicable reason the entire family thought that when dinner time rolled around I was going to feed them… again.
I fell into bed that night with a vague remembrance of how good it had felt to be focused and getting things done. And then I remembered the shower. That would have felt good too.
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