If absent-mindedness were a sign of genius, a mountain retreat would be built in my honor, accessible only to those with plenty of cash in hand. The teeming masses would beg me for enlightenment, inner peace, maybe even a few Hershey Kisses.
Alas, no such place exists. Take just a couple of hours ago. I was sitting at my desk opening a plastic wrapper containing a fork, knife, and napkin. Once they were removed, l placed the wrapper on my desk and started to throw the fork in the garbage…caught myself just in time. Good thing too – ever try picking up potato salad with a thin, almost weightless plastic wrapper? I don’t recommend it.
I’m also not blaming my absent-mindedness on some sort of genetic hand-me-down. My Dad was methodical in ways that sometimes made no sense to anyone but him. But it was pure stubbornness that drove him, not lack of focus.
As for my Mom?
“Bobby, what time were you supposed to be home?”
“Uh, ten o ‘clock and then throw up all the beer I drank?
“Wrong!”
“Hey, at least I was drinking and driving and managed to get the car back in the driveway…I think.”
“Grounded for two weeks…no car for a month…now get out of my sight.”
See that? My Mom was present-minded to the core. Her point A didn’t drift to another galaxy. It led straight to point B and sat there for a fortnight until point C rolled around, that being my sincere expression of remorse with a promise to never again break such un-bendable rules…unless I was SURE I wouldn’t get caught.
For whatever it’s worth, I object to the very term “absent-minded.” “Forgetful” I can live with…easily distracted, bad listener, “typical-male-I’m-always-right” syndrome…all spot on. But absent-minded? Doesn’t that mean “empty headed”? I ask only in the rhetorical sense.
Okay, so we’ve established (I think) that my skull contains a certain amount of brain matter and yet suffers from an occasional lack of connectivity. Take, for example, when I get home from work and have breaking news I can’t wait to share with the lovely Monika. Typically, I spill it before I’m barely up the stairs. Two hours later I’ll be thinking about the same thing when suddenly it dawns on me: “I have to tell Monika!” I do, she stops me three or four words into it, and says ever so gently: “You already told me that, dear” while thinking she’ll soon be feeding me soup through a straw.
There are examples of my absent-mindedness, however, you’ll have to beat out of me if you want the details. Like the time Monika and I went to New York for the matinee performance of Annie. We presented our tickets to the ticket taker who then had trouble scanning them. The people behind us were getting annoyed. I was annoyed…until he pointed out that we had purchased tickets for the 8 pm performance, not 2 pm. Obviously, someone switched them out when I wasn’t looking.
Or maybe you’d like to hear about all the times I’ve missed highway exits simply for lack of paying attention. Sorry, my lips are sealed. I might admit, however, that just last week I started to tell Mrs. R about the topic of this blog when, in mid-sentence, I drew a blank. She stared at me waiting for the exciting conclusion, I racked my brain, and finally it dawned on me – “It’s about absent-mindedness!” True story, and this blog is proof.
Hey, it’s not always easy being me and often worse for friends and family. Or maybe it’s the other way around.