I have a lot of things constantly going on in my life.
I can't even begin to list all the things I have to do.
No one does the things that are my job - but me.
I'm the one that does everything!
Little Billy came to me recently and asked, "Can I spend the night with cousin - his mom says it's okay - can I, can I, can I, can I, can I, can I, can I, huh ... can I?"
"Sure - if it's okay with Aunt V," I said.
I went back to doing the millions of chores on my list for the evening.
I cleaned up the kitchen.
I washed dishes.
I emptied the trash and took it outside.
I hung a load of laundry and started a new load in the washer.
I swept the kitchen floor.
I went outside and watered the plants.
I paid some bills.
I ran Alexis a bath.
I yelled, "Little Billy - come get ready for bed."
No answer.
"Little Billy - come on - it's time to get ready for bed."
No answer.
I yelled louder.
I walked through the house.
I SCREAMED ...
"LITTLE BILLY - WHERE ARE YOU? IT IS TIME TO GET IN THE SHOWER AND GET READY FOR BED."
I ended up in the kitchen - where there sat my husband in the nearby living room.
He looked in my direction.
He stared a minute.
He said ... quietly ...
"He's not here."
He looked at me for some sign ...
A sign of awareness ...
A sign of recollection ...
A sign of intelligence ...
NOTHING!
He said again ... quietly ...
"He's not here," in a different tone that implied ---- is there something the matter with your brain?
Okay!
I walked away!
As I slithered up the stairs, I SCREAMED ... quietly ...
"I can't remember everything!"
On the upside ... I eventually remembered WHERE he was - that is a good sign - RIGHT?