My brain can't remember some things, and other things it wont let go of. For instance, today, I had to visit a house. I sort of knew kind of where it was, and i was told the number of the house, and wrote it down. Now the thing with numbers and me, is the extremely short life span they have in my brain. We are actually talking microseconds here. Case in point... cutting fabric with Mags for the quilts we are making for Debra.
"how many of these do i cut?"
"four"
"okay" *counts* "how many?"
"four"
"oh yes, of course" *cut cut cut* "mmm..."
"four"
"yes yes... i keep forgetting"
what is up with that? tell me a number and I will instantly forget it.So when I finally find the street after driving down every street in the neighbourhood (why use a map when wandering and frustration are such a better option) I rock up to Number 79. Okay so thats the wrong house as I find out. *think think* 57..that's right..well no actually, that was wrong too. So I visit several homes in the cul-de-sac until I find out it's number 78. I don't even REMEMBER that number. I get back, give Mark a rark up over giving me the wrong house number. He of course claims he had said 78 all along. I note on my desk a note to myself, 75 Reelick Ave. No wonder. I am my own worst enemy.So is it that I have the need to personally use all the fossil fuels by making a short, 5 minute trip, into such an petrol guzzling ordeal? The number of kilometres i used today, considering the places I needed to go.. was appauling. I hope this was a one off and I am not usually like this. Maybe I just noticed for the first time.And I drive too fast. When one day I suddenly disappear from the Internet, it maybe assumed I have met my end in a twisted metal mangled mess. But channel Z will still be blaring.