Pay attention. I'm only going to go through this once.
It has to do with the mysteries of aging. Specifically, my meds. I take a gaggle of pills morning and night. Recently, the cardiologist upped the strength on one of the miracle heart drugs. I know because it makes me a little dizzy every morning that I manage to remember to take my pills.
So this morning, right on cue, I began to get a little dizzy. Pavlov would be so proud. A cheap high rolled in about an hour after taking my meds. But when I looked at the pill box with the days in bold letters S M T W T F S, it appeared I had taken M rather than S. Or had I? Last night, I know I got out of sync and fixated on M.
When I asked She Who Knows These Things, She ignored the question and cooly observed that I had syrup on my chin. No mention of the pill problem. Just syrup. Here the mystery deepens. My fresh white T-shirt has three spots on the front. And not a damn one of them matches the syrup.
"Don't forget the barn door," she cooed.
Maybe because I was whining still, She suggested perhaps I could keep track if I would put the pill box on one side of the lavatory before I took the pills and on the other upon completion. Redundant?
Although no further mention was made of the T-shirt stains, I could find only two spots while looking in the mirror. The alleged third spot remained illusive until I realized it was hiding under my chin. Without bifocals, it was barely noticeable.
I remembered the barn door while putting on the natty white belt I bought to go with my shoes.
Damn it all. I thought retirement was supposed to be easy. I blame it on Daylight Saving Time. Makes me want to ululate.
Look it up.