It was a bit chilly in the living room. Drafty, you might say. I gave Dad a sweater.
"Hey Dana," I called as he passed by the living room entrance. "The window isn't shut up at the top. Could you fix it?"
Dana scrunched up his face as he looked up at the window. "Huh, that's weird," he said. He looked puzzled. The window was about open, about 5 inches down from the top.
I didn't volunteer any information.
Dana often makes fun of my lack of memory. I feel like he sometimes uses this as his only weapon against me when we're each trying to win a fight. As if anyone ever 'wins,' a fight... Since he knows that my memory is poor, he can pretty make up just about anything and say that I said or did that because he knows that I can't be certain.
Of course, if I really am forgetting everything, then I'm just being paranoid!
But if I'm really not forgetting anything and Dana is trying to trick me, I don't want to give him any extra leverage to use against me.
I suspect it may be a mix of both. My memory, after all, isn't that bad. I can remember song lyrics from just about any song that has been recorded in the last 70 years. And I have an excellent memory when it comes to work - for a limited time, however. I remember over the course of a project the better details for as long as I need to remember them, but come two years down the road, it's like reinventing the wheel. I also always have a frame for these memories because I am a Nazi about email archiving.
Needless to say, there's a lot of useless gunk in my brain taking up precious space; like a hard drive, there is a limited space (though I asked Kyrce, and she questions whether or not this could ever be quantifiable; I think I might disagree or, at least, explore in for a possible Sci-Fi narrative...)So, some of the 'stuff' is falling off of the hard drive that is my brain.
And my brain is just generally tired. I have a lot of thoughts in a day - probably most of them not so useful. Thoughts can be tiring. Even thoughts like 'Gee, my hair looks nice' or 'Where the hell did I put Liam's shoes?' How many thoughts does a person have before their brain starts to feel tired? Ah, too many mis-navigated thoughts in my head. I can't keep the important ones because I can't get to them. It's like trying to sleep in a room full of mosquitoes twittering about your head and biting your toes.
Anyway, the point is that I wasn't about to give Dana more ammunition by admitting that I had to break into our house this afternoon because I locked myself out with Kyrce this afternoon when we ran out for diet Pepsi. I also wasn't going to tell him that this wasn't the first time that day I had locked myself out - although luckily, the first time I had left the front door open. Um, and I am not going to tell Dana I forgot to lock the front door when I left, either!
Perhaps Dana is partly right...
But it's frustrating when you're trying to talk with someone who dismisses what you are saying because they know that your memory has weak spots.
And I'm not picking on Dana. I tend to do the same thing with my Dad. I don't mean to, but I do. In fact, just this afternoon, a group of us had pretty much discounted what Dad was saying because he wasn't quite explaining himself clearly.
I honestly can't recall how we got on this train of thought with Dad but he started talking about a 'ringy-dingy'. Trying to understand what he was saying, I asked him what a 'ringy-dingy' was.
He peered at me through his glasses with a look of disbelief. "You don't know what a ringy-dingy is?"
"Um...no..."
"Well, a ringy-dingy has been around for years now! How can you not know what a ringy-dingy is! You know, like one ringy-dingy, two ringy-dingy, three ringy-dingy..."
I was sniggering. I couldn't help it. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about and it sounded funny to me, whatever it was. He tried to explain it in a few different ways, but it only became more confused as the narrative continued.
Dad looked irritated.
"You damn well do know what a ringy-dingy is...DUH!" Dad said.
He can be so belligerent when he thinks is superiorly right. Gee, might I be like this?
And he was right. Only I hadn't really been listening - not beyond the literal words.
Andrea and Andrew got Dad settled in the living room as Kyrce and I were still sitting at the table. I googled 'Ringy Dingy'...
Dad wasn't as confused as I thought...Watch...
"Hey Dana," I called as he passed by the living room entrance. "The window isn't shut up at the top. Could you fix it?"
Dana scrunched up his face as he looked up at the window. "Huh, that's weird," he said. He looked puzzled. The window was about open, about 5 inches down from the top.
I didn't volunteer any information.
Dana often makes fun of my lack of memory. I feel like he sometimes uses this as his only weapon against me when we're each trying to win a fight. As if anyone ever 'wins,' a fight... Since he knows that my memory is poor, he can pretty make up just about anything and say that I said or did that because he knows that I can't be certain.
Of course, if I really am forgetting everything, then I'm just being paranoid!
But if I'm really not forgetting anything and Dana is trying to trick me, I don't want to give him any extra leverage to use against me.
I suspect it may be a mix of both. My memory, after all, isn't that bad. I can remember song lyrics from just about any song that has been recorded in the last 70 years. And I have an excellent memory when it comes to work - for a limited time, however. I remember over the course of a project the better details for as long as I need to remember them, but come two years down the road, it's like reinventing the wheel. I also always have a frame for these memories because I am a Nazi about email archiving.
Needless to say, there's a lot of useless gunk in my brain taking up precious space; like a hard drive, there is a limited space (though I asked Kyrce, and she questions whether or not this could ever be quantifiable; I think I might disagree or, at least, explore in for a possible Sci-Fi narrative...)So, some of the 'stuff' is falling off of the hard drive that is my brain.
And my brain is just generally tired. I have a lot of thoughts in a day - probably most of them not so useful. Thoughts can be tiring. Even thoughts like 'Gee, my hair looks nice' or 'Where the hell did I put Liam's shoes?' How many thoughts does a person have before their brain starts to feel tired? Ah, too many mis-navigated thoughts in my head. I can't keep the important ones because I can't get to them. It's like trying to sleep in a room full of mosquitoes twittering about your head and biting your toes.
Anyway, the point is that I wasn't about to give Dana more ammunition by admitting that I had to break into our house this afternoon because I locked myself out with Kyrce this afternoon when we ran out for diet Pepsi. I also wasn't going to tell him that this wasn't the first time that day I had locked myself out - although luckily, the first time I had left the front door open. Um, and I am not going to tell Dana I forgot to lock the front door when I left, either!
Perhaps Dana is partly right...
But it's frustrating when you're trying to talk with someone who dismisses what you are saying because they know that your memory has weak spots.
And I'm not picking on Dana. I tend to do the same thing with my Dad. I don't mean to, but I do. In fact, just this afternoon, a group of us had pretty much discounted what Dad was saying because he wasn't quite explaining himself clearly.
I honestly can't recall how we got on this train of thought with Dad but he started talking about a 'ringy-dingy'. Trying to understand what he was saying, I asked him what a 'ringy-dingy' was.
He peered at me through his glasses with a look of disbelief. "You don't know what a ringy-dingy is?"
"Um...no..."
"Well, a ringy-dingy has been around for years now! How can you not know what a ringy-dingy is! You know, like one ringy-dingy, two ringy-dingy, three ringy-dingy..."
I was sniggering. I couldn't help it. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about and it sounded funny to me, whatever it was. He tried to explain it in a few different ways, but it only became more confused as the narrative continued.
Dad looked irritated.
"You damn well do know what a ringy-dingy is...DUH!" Dad said.
He can be so belligerent when he thinks is superiorly right. Gee, might I be like this?
And he was right. Only I hadn't really been listening - not beyond the literal words.
Andrea and Andrew got Dad settled in the living room as Kyrce and I were still sitting at the table. I googled 'Ringy Dingy'...
Dad wasn't as confused as I thought...Watch...