Memory Loss

by Patti

My head is a magical Rolodex.

Okay, maybe I’m dating myself.

My head is a magical Palm Pilot.

Whoa. Still dating myself.

My head is a magical Blackberry! (Better?)

In my magical Blackberry head I have stored my doctor’s name and number, my husband’s doctor’s name and number, my daughter’s doctor’s name and number, my mother’s doctor’s name and number, my work number, my husband’s work number, my daughter’s school’s number, her teachers’ names, her classmates’ names, her classmates’ MOTHERS’ names, my daughter’s ½ days at school; her play dates; my social security number, my husband’s social security number, my daughter’s social security number; my mother’s/brother’s/husband’s/daughter’s/aunts’/uncles’/cousins’/neighbors’/friends’ birthdays; the dosage of medicine my daughter needs, the last time she had a check-up/fever/cold, my anniversary, my parents’ anniversary………..

I could go on, but my magical Blackberry head might explode.

My husband?

Hold on.

I’m laughing too hard to type right now.

There. Okay.

Phew.

So anyway….I’m wondering… when a man gets married, does his wife somehow suck all the memory cells out of his head and keep them for herself so that she can become a Magical Blackberry Head and keep everyone’s life from falling a-freakin’-part?

Or were they just really never there to begin with and that is the purpose of a wife? To serve as little pop-up reminders?

“M, today is your mom’s birthday. Don’t forget to call her.”

“It is?”
…..

“M, don’t forget the school meeting tonite.”

“You never told me about it! I have tennis!”
….

“M, it’s me, Patti.”

“Who?”

“YOUR WIFE.”