Stress can make you forgetful, right? RIGHT?! Oh please, tell me it’s stress. Please, please, please. I get nervous that it’s actually a sign of things to come. My husband gets even more nervous than I do.
Read on to find out about tonight’s latest episode of stress-induced senility (SIS is what I like to call it. It is a technical term I coined. Well, I think I did but if it really exists that would make me feel a ton better).
I was packing up my office to go home for the night. It was later than usual–7:00 or so–but that was to be expected since I’m OOO (that’s Out Of the Office for all you lucky non-office drones out there) for the next two days.
Anyway, I put my computer in my bag. I moved some papers around on my desk–placing them into nice, neat, squared-off piles so there was some semblance of order for anyone popping by in my absence. And all the while I chatted with my sister on my cell phone as I got myself organized and turned out the lights.
“Flight delayed, claustrophobic in the window seat, big lady in the middle seat, screaming kid, etc. etc.,” my sister was telling me about her flight back to Baltimore from her visit out in Colorado.
I was listening but I was also going through my end of the day (EOD to throw another acronym your way) mental check list:
computer…check
sunglasses…check
keys to the car…check
agenda for tomorrow’s meeting…check
phone…no check. Huh. Where’s my phone?
“….asked me if I’d mind changing seats with her husband. Mind? I was so happy, I jumped out of my seat….”
“Uh-huh.” I turned around to go back to my office to look for my phone. “Sh*t.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m trying to leave the office and go home. But I can’t find my phone. What the hell did I do with it?” By this point I was digging into my purse looking for it– pulling out keys and gum, ketchup packets from Chik-fil-a, wadded up tissue and everything else buried in the nooks and crannies of my bag.
“Um…,” a long pause followed…..and then, wait for it….but by now you know what’s coming:
“Aren’t you talking to me on your phone?”
Yep.
True story.
