Let’s talk a little about getting old, shall we? Now, I could talk for hours about all the aches and pains I have when those rainy northers blow in. We mature guys could gather around and show each other our scars and tell the stories behind them, but today I’d like to talk about another age-related subject. I want to chat about, um … Hold on, it’ll come to me. Dang it! I forgot what I was gonna say.
Oh, that’s it! I want to talk about forgetting stuff. For the past couple of years, I’ve notice my short-term memory lasts about as long as a fart in a windstorm. Oh, I can recall things from my early childhood, but don’t expect me to correctly answer questions like “What did you have for supper last night?” or “Clint, where are your pants?”
Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying I’m feeble-minded. I’m 60 years old and my brain hasn’t yet turned into a pile of pudding. I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I can still cut the cheese. I routinely finish the New York Times crossword puzzles and do fairly well watching Jeopardy, but I can also walk into my tool shed and can’t remember what I went in there for.
How many of you guys have found yourself standing in front of a refrigerator and don’t know why you are there? Oh, I’m not talking about the beer fridge. No memory loss there. I have never stood in front of the toilet wondering why I am there, but I can leave the bathroom trying to remember if I brushed my teeth.
I know doctors say this is perfectly normal for a guy my age. Plus, being 6’5 and bumping my head on numerous door frames and tree branches had to’ve led to a little brain damage. And I reckon that 40 years of consuming arthritis elixirs and snake-bite medicine might’ve killed some gray matter, but I still have my wits about me. No need to measure me for a straight-jacket yet.
Since I’m a half-full kind of guy, I have found several benefits for having short-term memory loss. And if I can remember them all, I’d like to share them with you now.
You never complain about reruns on TV. By the time the shows come back around in the summer, you’ve forgotten what happened back in the fall.
You tend to be cleaner these days. As I’m fixin’ to turn off my shower, I often can’t recall if I shampooed my hair. So I do it again. My hair has never looked so lustrous.
Being forgetful is heart healthy. Just think of all the exercise you get wandering around the HEB parking lot looking for your car.
You don’t need to spend good money on new books. Just keep the books you’ve already read and pull one out in a year or two. It’ll be like a new release. I once got a third of the way through a Tom Clancy novel before I remembered reading it a few years earlier. Had to keep reading to see how it ended.
I don’t mind hearing my doctor advise me to stop eating fried food and cut back on my alcohol consumption. After having a salad and herbal tea for one meal, I forget what the ol’ sawbones told me and I’m back at the bar with a platter of wings and a beer.
You have a good excuse for not taking out the trash as requested by the missus. Actually, I didn’t forget that. I was just waiting for halftime.
And the best part about memory loss is being a happier guy because you can’t remember what ticked you off a few minutes before.
Clint Younts might forget to take out the trash – on purpose – but he manages to write his thoughts down for this column. Of course, this might have been written weeks ago, but he might’ve forgotten to email it. Where’s that computer again?
crowsnest78610@gmail.com
