I'm Losing, Losing Touch With My Mind. I'm Fallin', Fallin' Way Behind.

It's Friday and so I will show you a photo of my gigantic cat and his gigantic whiskers. Behold the glory.

If you know me at all, you understand just how spacey I am. It was one of the first things I heard the girls talking about me behind my back about, when they got to that age. You know that age...When they're babies and toddlers, you are their world, they feel like they are still a part of you and they think you are beautiful and love you blindly. Then they get to whatever age that is where they understand that not only are they not part of you, they actually find you really annoying. Whatever. So, I overheard my daughters' conversation and it sounded something like this:

Coadster: It's not like she's stupid...

Stinky: No. It's more that she's really spacey.

Coadster: Yes! That's it.

Again, I say, "Whatever." I am who I am, and compared to a lot of parents, my spaciness is the least of a kid's worries.

That having been said...Now that I'm perimenopausal or possibly have early onset dementia (because that is seriously what it feels like), my spaciness knows no bounds. I am losing so many things. Granted, some of it is because I have absolutely no organizational skills, nor am I working on acquiring any. We have a spare bedroom that is essentially a gigantic closet of our techy/bike/run/swim/outdoorWinter clothes, and both John's and my clothes get mixed up together too, so it should come as no surprise that I have lost so many things in the last 6 months. Anyway, just so you can see what I'm talking about, here is a list of things I can't seem to find in my own  home these days:

1. My Red Shamrock techy t-shirt. I can find John's, but not mine.
2. All except one of the several neck gators we have.
3. My black shirt that I wear at least once a week to work. it's one of the few halfway dressy enough clothes to wear at the office.
4. My favorite pair of black running shorts that I just bought this Summer (sigh).
5. Any number of assorted pairs of socks.
6. My aluminum free deodorant.
7. 50 pairs (roughly) of reading glasses.
8. About 100 more things that I've forgotten.

Yes, I can repurchase many of these things, but where the hell do they all go? Do the cats hide them? If I clean behind the couches or under the beds, will I find them in a pile of their hair and toys? Are the elves coming at night when I'm asleep to quickly drive me insane(er)? Are they all in an alternate universe where the me who lives there has lost all of the things that I still have? I'm at a loss.

I try to reassure myself that this extreme spaciness is par for the course and when I read about the symptoms of perimenopause, the one symptom that all women in every culture around the world complained about, was this spacey, forgetfulness. So, who knows? Maybe in the next couple of years when I emerge fully into menopause and my head clears, all of these things will be found and I will suddenly be organized, even though I've never been that way in my entire life and I will be smarter, and as funny as I think I am and rich and I'll find the cure for cancer AND the common cold, while I'm at it. I have so much to look forward to...