It’s been evident for quite some time around here – I dunno, probably since shortly after becoming pregnant with Luke? I can’t remember. – that if something isn’t written down, there’s a good chance I’m going to forget it.
I’ll take a risk sometimes, and think of something that I need at the store, and think to myself, “I’m on my way there; I’ll remember it.” 9 times out of 10, I don’t. And that other time? I practically do a happy dance and physically pat myself on the back right there in the store when I DO remember it.
But y’all. My forgetfulness took a terrible turn for the worse this weekend. And this is going to get a tad personal (but not too graphic, I promise), but I’m so, so desperately hoping that someone can relate, or will at least laugh with me.
So I was showering on Saturday afternoon, getting ready for a nice dinner out with Matt and my in-laws that night. And like I do every.day., I shaved my armpits. But.
I discovered that apparently, the day before, I’d only shaved one armpit. That’s right. One. I seriously don’t even know how that’s possible, given that it’s been a daily task for oh, say, the past TWENTY YEARS.
I was immediately relieved to remember that I had been wearing a t-shirt, and not a tank top, yesterday. Sheesh.
So, seriously, people, if I say I’m going to call you and don’t, I’m not blowing you off. I just probably didn’t write it down.