Thursday Debbie asked me if I remembered when we had discussed getting a new will. And I said “no.” She said “You remember, a couple of weeks ago, you went somewhere and they told you that you needed a new will?”
Me, with appropriate blank stare: “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Debbie: “You went somewhere to get the car worked on and they told you that you needed a new wheel.”
“WHEEL. OH a WHEEL!! Oh yeah, that was at Wal-Mart when I got the tires rotated.”
Reminded me of the time I went to Memphis with one of the safety specialists when I worked at Manville. We spent the week working in the plant, and one evening we went down to Beale St. We’d talked about it earlier in the week, and Ken had never even heard of it, much less been to such a historic place. When we arrived, Ken said “Oh, it really is pronounced BEE-l street. All this time, I just thought that was people from the south trying to say Bill Street.”
Having Memphis on the brain, then, after we ate mexican food last night and I had a bit of a stomach ache, Debbie then reminded me that this happended the last time we went to Memphis.
Me, again with a blank stare: “Memphis? When was the last time we went to Memphis?”
Debbie: “NINFA’s. Ninfa’s Mexican.”
You know – between losing my memory and losing my hearing, I’m just not so sure I can handle another 50+ years (I plan to live to 100, so I’m not middle-aged yet, right?).