#92 Memory Laps

I’m worried about my wife’s memory. Just last week she forgot a key ingredient for dinner.

I found her standing in the kitchen, staring into the pantry with a look of intense concentration; the kind of look you associate with a sage pondering the nature of the universe or someone trying to figure out how best to ask a favor.

“Bother,” she muttered.

Seeing no reasonable escape, I took the bait asked what was wrong.

“I thought we had some spaghetti sauce,” she said.

You see what I mean about her memory? Taking pity, I offered to go to the store.

“So long as you’re going anyway…” she said. “Could you pick up a French Loaf and some of those … whatdyacallits for salad … crunchy-bready things.”

“Croutons?”

“Yeah. Here I’ll write you a list.”

I refused. It’s her memory that’s a problem, not mine…

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