I am a very organized person. I make lists. I do the same things each morning in the same order. It keeps life going smoothly. Well, usually. The other day, I stepped out the door at 7:30 am like always and drove down the same roads to work. I reached for my bag beside me on the seat as I drove up to the parking ramp. I needed to pull out my identity card which not only says who I am, it lets me into the parking ramp and into the locker room, and pays for my lunch. There was no bag on the seat. Did I not bring it along? Apparently not. I cannot believe I have left the most important possession for my day at home. I buzzed the security department in the hopes that they will believe my embarrassing story and buzz me into the ramp. Without even a question, the gate opened and I found a parking spot. But I was so preoccupied with my day. I not only did not have my most important identity card, I didn’t have my pager, my surgically shielded glasses, or my hair clip to secure my hair. Somehow, I needed to figure out how to improvise without these all important items.
I did manage to survive the day being nameless, unreachable, hungry, and with my hair falling out the back of my surgical cap every few hours. As I left work 30 minutes late, I realized, I had no recollection of parking my car. Oh dear. I climbed the 6 flights of stairs to the top of the ramp (my forced exercise for the day). I usually parked near the top. But when I clicked the car door unlock on my keys, no sound came back to my ears. I began my trudge around and around, making my way downward level after level. Can this day ever end, I wondered? My car has to be here somewhere. Finally, on the first level just inside the entrance, was my lost car. I wanted to just sit down and start this day over? Is this what happens when one is old and the circuits are overloaded? At least no one was looking – I hope.