“Get off my bumper, jerk!” I said to the car behind me. My friend told me to flash my lights to make him think I was putting on the brakes. I promptly reached over and turned on the windshield wipers. We both laughed until we cried.
It’s a burden being right about pretty much everything, one I’ve borne most of my life. They say with age comes wisdom, so how come I’m suddenly wrong more often than ever before? I used to know how to do about anything other than Quantum Physics, gene splicing, and pushing the right button on my pone to take it off speaker. Some things are better left to the experts.
Over the years, I’ve had to bend a little on some things, like folding towels and which way to hang the toilet paper roll (under). I never caved on important things like child rearing and breaking spaghetti in half before cooking (yes, you should break it).
Now I let pots boil dry, cook plank roasted salmon briquettes, and leave clothes in the washer for days. I can’t count the number of times I’ve mistaken baking powder for baking soda, and I don’t think I could do long division even if the fate of the free world was in the balance.
What happened?
Could it be that I’ve been wrong about things all along and am only just now gaining the wisdom and maturity to recognize it? Nah.
I figure that the brain cells that govern spatial concepts, like the distance from wherever I am to the bathroom have taken a little break. The tip of my tongue is overloaded with words I can’t think of, and my eye hand coordination can’t handle complex systems like picking a dime out from the other coins in my coin purse. Yes, I’m that annoying lady who has a separate coin purse and has to dump the contents on the counter to pick out the exact change. Until they outlaw coin purses in the quick check out line, you’ll just have to suck it up.
I no longer feel the need to say “I meant to do that.” When I squirt toothpaste all over the bathroom mirror. I can laugh about the embarrassing moments and chalk it up to being human. I’m pretty sure that’s the right thing to do. If you disagree, I’ll concede that you have the right to be wrong.
Karla, we have sooooo much in common!
I suffer from CRS (Can’t Remember Shit). I’m told there’s no cure.
Karla;
I break the spaghetti, but the freaking toilet paper goes “over”. Geez, and I thought we might be kindred spirits. 😛
Gosh, I forget everything these days. And I have this clumsiness I never had before. I spill when I shouldn’t spill, even when I’m paying close attention. My coordination is crap and when I actually do talk to people face-to-face, I tend to mumble.
Actually I guess I’m mumbling now so I’ll shut up. Have a super weekend!
I respect your right to load toilet paper wrong. The spaghetti would have been a bit harder. Don’t get me started on towels.
I think we may be related! Awesome post!
OMG…best title ever! I’m just like you except I’m almost always wrong…I just laugh at everything I do or else I’d be locked up in a mental ward.
You’re too funny…and did I say BEST TITLE EVER!
I have the title embroidered on a sweatshirt.
Getting older is not for sissies.
I totally disagree with you (what is it you were writing about?).
I think it had to do with off-track betting.
You’re right. It WAS about lemon zest.
Whaaaattttt???? Oh, Karla — the TP goes OVER. Don’t make me come over there.
😉
I have all of that!!! and I’m only in my 40’s…!!! CRS…that is a definite!!
But, Karla…honey, the toilet paper goes OVER!!! LOL
When I popped in and I was just going to say ditto but now I feel even better after reading the comments, because I now know there’s a name for it ‘CRS’ and I’m not so scared about dropping two consecutive cups of tea yesterday. I just ball up the towels.
I really enjoyed this, it rings so true for me!
Glad you stopped by! When you ball up your hubby’s underwear to clean up the tea, you can start worrying.
Breaking spaghetti qualifies as an important thing?
I’m thinking that if you are also left-handed, we could be friends. Definitely under on TP hanging, and spaghetti must be “halfened.” I argued with my daughter over that one many times–and then had to argue with my husband that halfened was a word! What is wrong with people?
Anyway, love it! Even if you are from the slow south.
Halfened is definitely a word, no matter what Merriam-Webster has to say on the matter.