Shady Pines, here I come?

Hi there

Recently, I wrote about how if we older people aren't too  careful with our actions we could be carted off to Shady Pines (reference "Golden Girls).  I rambled on about putting bowling balls in the fridge, and how it might only take one spur-of-the-moment absent-minded mistake like this and the guys in the white coats might truly register us for Shady Pines.

Yesterday, I mislaid my wallet again.  A brand-new five-day old wallet that wasn't, as yet, a familiar artefact to me.

I searched for it all around the house .....

With trepidation, I searched in the fridge, knowing that if I found my wallet in there I truly would be in line for Shady Pines.  Phewww, thank goodness, my wallet wasn't there. I  searched in even more outlandish places.  Goodness, I'd only handled the wallet forty-five minutes before, so why was I searching in the top of my wardrobe.  Alzheimer's became an even closer worry with every place I looked.  Had I had an amnesiac period?

My little cottage is about the size of most people's lounges.  I went round and around hunting in those rooms over and over, getting more and more agitated by the minute.

I thought about the last time I had opened my wallet.  What had I done after that?

Got it!  I had scooped up a big bundle of stuff from the kitchen counter and, arms laden, had carried it all outside to the recycling bin!

My wallet was there!   In the bin, amongst the egg trays, envelopes, council electioneering pamphlets and, sadly, empty Pepsi Max bottles (I swear I am trying to wean myself off Pepsi, promise).

I am so glad that no representative from Shady Pines was nearby to catch my latest "senior moment"...