Always forgetting

My memory is shot to pieces with the ravishes of old age.

Still, I’m not at the point where I forget to put my pants on when I’m late for work.
Well, there was that one time, but I don’t like to talk about it.
Yep, I guess I’m going senile, but luckily, I have my wife, Cindy, around to stand up for me as I reach my “declining” years.
Cindy will tell people that my memory is as sharp as ever.  In fact, I heard her tell one person that my memory was so good that I could remember things that never happened!
Beat that!
I’ve always been forgetting things, so I’m not too concerned.
I love to tell stories and will frequently relate them to Cindy as I drive down the highway with her.  One time I finished a particularly funny one, if I do say so myself.  I noticed that Cindy wasn’t laughing.  Therefore, I inquired about it.
“Wasn’t the story funny?”
“Sure was.”
“Why didn’t you laugh?”
“I don’t know.  Maybe because the last five times you told it to me sort of took the shine off of it.”
There was another time when Cindy kept trying to teach me to change diapers after our first baby was born.  Somehow or other my poor memory and lack of smell ended up with her changing most of them.  But did Cindy have any sympathy for me?  NOOOOO!!!  Go figure.
Cindy got a much-needed day out of the house once and I was left with the baby.
She came back eight hours later to the sounds of shrill screams, and the kid wasn’t doing much better, either.
Cindy looked at me and said, “What’s wrong with our baby?”
“I don’t know.  She’s been screaming ever since a couple of hours after you left.”
Cindy picked up the kid and said, “Good grief, this diaper stinks to high heaven.  How many times have you changed her since I’ve been gone?”
“None.”
“NONE!!!  Why not???”
“Well, I started to, but I looked on the side of the diaper bag and figured she would be fine for a while.”
“What in the bad place does that mean???”
“Well, the package says it will hold eight to 10 pounds, so I thought the kid would be good for a few days.”
I just chalked up the whole incident to my bad memory.  Of course, Cindy has her own explanation, but I won’t record it here, as the theory behind it is just too ridiculous to waste ink on.
Occasionally, other folks will notice that ‘old man Begley’ is slipping.
The other day I happened to be off work and went down to St. Dominic to pick up my daughter Belle and niece Rachel from school when it let out.  Maura Walker came over to my car and said, “Ken, did you forget Belle?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You wrote that article in the paper last week and you said, ‘All my kids have gone or are going to Washington County High.’ Did you forget that you still had Belle at St. Dominic?”
“Belle who?’
“Belle Begley, you know, your girl in the fifth grade at St. Dominic.  Good Lord, you haven’t forgotten you have a 10-year-old, have you?”
“Shoot no, especially around tax time.  Nevertheless, I’m glad you did mention it.  I was wondering what I was doing down here in the parking lot.’
Then I leaned over and motioned Maura closer.  I whispered into her ear, “Who is that kid in the back seat of my van here?”
“That’s Belle.”
“Well, that settles that question! No wonder I couldn’t get her to get out of my car.  By the way,  who’s the kid next to her?”
“Surely you haven’t already forgotten your niece Rachel?”
“Why, I take that as an insult. Do you think I’m totally bonkers that I wouldn’t remember my own kid and niece?  That’s just plain ridiculous.  What kind of an idiot do you think I am?”
“Well Cindy says . .  .”
“Don’t answer that question. What do wives know anyway?  Better run.  Gotta go.”
So, I started up the van.
I looked into the back and said “All right girls, are you ready to go home?”
They looked up with their bright faces and said, “Yes!”
“You have to answer one quick question first, though.”
“OK,” they said in unison.
“Who the heck was that lady that I was just talking to?”