by Brianna Popsickle

Created on: December 01, 2009

No, Bob. I'm sure it was a Wednesday because you golfed the next day.

You know sweetie I think you're right, it was a Wednesday, it was the seventeenth of May.

I rolled my eyes at my husband. He stared back at me suppressing a yawn.

We hadn't seen Bob and Mary for some time, and they hadn't changed a bit. They had the annoying habit of debating over the exact time, day and year of every story they told. I wanted to scream, It doesn't matter what day it was! Just tell the story!

Tonight I was finding it even more annoying, but not for the same reason. How could they remember what day it was, what year it was, what they were wearing? These days if you asked me what I had for lunch, I'd have to stop and think about it.

I'm talking about memory loss. I've read it sneaks up on you like middle age and I'm learning about it first-hand.

The other day I entered my membership number into the computer at the gym. My picture is supposed to pop up on their screen so they can verify who I am. The girl behind the counter looked at the picture then looked at me.

Sorry, wrong number. Try again, she said.

I entered my number again.

Nope, sorry, she grinned.

Suddenly it hit me. I wasn't keying in my membership number, I was entering the code for my automatic garage door opener! I blurted out what I'd done. The girl gave me one of those 'you poor thing' looks. Thank God I hadn't told her for a brief instant I had visions of my garage door going up and down. She would have thought I had completely lost it.

It isn't just the gym incident. I've been experiencing other 'memory loss' moments. For some time now I've been calling my son Casey.

Casey, time for dinner. Casey what time are you going out?

Our dog's name is Casey.

Sometimes I'll find myself in the basement wondering what the hell I'm doing there. I'll remember eventually, but never until I'm back upstairs.

Shopping is the worst. I make a list only to leave it at home. I try to recreate it in my mind which usually results in my husband asking, Why do we have three packages of Philadelphia Cream Cheese and who's going to eat all this cereal?

I've purchased a mountain of cloth reusable grocery bags I leave in the van, but forget to take them into the store with me. I never realize until it's too late and I've unloaded everything on the counter.

The other day the cashier asked, Will you be needing bags today? I started to explain that I was as 'green' as the next person and had purchased

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