Memory--the Operative Word!

My friend Cindy and I were teasing each other this morning about which of us was more forgetful, kind of like a battle of "Yo Mama" jokes about dementia--but WE are the Mamas. She assured me that my forgetting to phone someone, or to take the clothes out of the washing machine, merely reflects that I have three jobs--Mom, Writer, Teacher--and am approaching 50. Some assurance, huh?!

Not five minutes after saying goodbye to her, I reached into my cupboard for a cup so that I could take my fish oil capsule (per Cindy's admonition during our morning get-together--oy, do I sound old or what?). To my shock, I found a half-full cup of coffee sitting among the empty cups! "What the heck!" I could feel my eyes popping out, followed by my hysterical laughter. Alone in my house, freaking out my poor dogs, I howled till my eyes started streaming, and then I picked up the phone.

"Cindy!" I recorded something like this on her message machine: "Okay, I have officially topped you in the battle over who is more demented! I just found a half-full cup of coffee in my cupboard!" I could barely get out the words, I was guffawing so. She called me back within a few minutes, and we continued laughing together. She admitted that my "senior moment" topped all!

At least I called the cup "half-full."