“Talking it Over” watercolor painting by kayti sweetland Rasmussen
Short term memory is the bunk. People stop in the middle of a sentence with a bewildered look on their face while they mumble something which fades away into the ether. What happened to conversation. No one thinks they are as good as they used to be, and their memory extends only as far as the next sentence. It’s a vicious circle, involving the loss of eyeglasses, car keys and whatever else they last had their hands on.
Of course I am discussing everyone else but me. I always know precisely why I went into the bathroom to find the strawberry jam.
Pachofa-Unfinished 
Hello from Scotland! Your last sentence made me laugh out loud.
No need to worry. It’s all about concentration, not memory. 🙂
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That was my first attempt at writing a 100 word post. It’s not easy, I kept forgetting to concentrate, because of conversation from the other room!
Keep having a wonderful green time over there.
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Haha! Very good.
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Never did find the jam either! Maybe I’ll check the oven.
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You say much in just a few words. I tried counting them exactly but kept forgetting where I had got to.
“The old men sat there silent for a long time.” [Marilynne Robinson in ‘Home’ about Ames and Broughton on the porch together -10 words.]
Your painting – all said though you dispense with words altogether.
We gaze silently into the eyes of another and share infinity.
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Sometimes a picture or a touch of a hand is worth a thousand words.
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Yet it is words that tell us so.
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Sorry – Boughton (no ‘r’).
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Lovely picture 🙂
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Love your mules, and I forgot what else I was going to say…
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I’m also afflicted with the grand quality of forgetting! Usually from one nanominute to the next!
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Me? I was completely startled to discover a little transistor radio in the glove box of my car last week. I had no idea what had happened to it, and I finally decided I’d knocked it overboard.
However, that’s not nearly so good as my friend, who lost the baked potato she was going to have with her salmon steak and salad one night. She hunted high and low for that potato. In the microwave. In the oven. On top of the washer or dryer. In the dining room. A week later, she found it in the freezer.
Ah, life!
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Was it done? (grin)
Your radio is probably worth something in the antique market!
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