This farm house is abandoned just like my empty shell of a brain. A few weeks ago a young woman introduced herself to me as Amanda, or Amelia, or Arther, or Apple. Anyway I’m 72% certain it started with an A.
So what do I do? I really shouldn’t even say what did “I” do because this evil little trouble maker can’t be a part of me. He must be a separate entity Somehow he has direct access to my mouth with no oversight by the brain. Like one of those spam deals. The little bugger caused me to blurt out, “I will most certainly remember your name for next week’s class. ” Huh? Next week? I can’t remember a name next 5 minutes.
The rather minority part of my brain that still functions came up with a plan. I tattooed her name just under a fold of skin at my kneecap. The fold of skin hid it. Then when I next saw her I did a squat to 1. get close enough to read the name; 2. tighten the skin so I could see the name. Worked like a charm, except ….. once you squat down, social convention has it you are supposed to stand back up again. And during the upward motion I would forget the name I read on my knee.
Back down again. Same thing. By the third squat I forgot what I was going down for and started looking at my toes. I stayed this way until the end of the class at which point I pronounced my toes as being pretty fit.
My daughter, Erika, gave me a book on improving your memory. In the old days we would have called that pissing away your money.