You know the saying, confession is good for the soul but bad for the reputation. Well, I probably shouldn't share this, but...
Had a moment yesterday. A brunette-acting-blond moment. It's rather embarrassing, actually. Let me start with my defense. My life is really busy right now, especially at work, and I do feel scattered most of the time, but something like this, well, I can't have dementia yet, can I?
Wednesday, I realized that my follow-up doctor's appointment was Thursday at 11:15 a.m. So I went about arranging to go: informed both bosses and the receptionists, arranged around various work activities, canceled a long-planned lunch with a friend, etc. On Thursday, I was in full-run mode. I was moving and solving from the moment I arrived. At 11:08 a.m., I tore out of the building and rushed to my doctor's office. I arrived at 11:18 a.m. (late, but she always is so I wasn't too worried), signed in, and plunked myself down in the waiting area to read a magazine. My doctor's office is a small, single-doctor office, and I've been going for years, so everyone there knows me by sight (read: there is no anonymity here). A moment after seating myself, the receptionist calls me up to the desk, "Uh, J, your appointment is at 11:15 a.m. on the 20th."
Long pause on my end. "That's next Thursday, isn't it?" "Mmhum," a smile trying to break free from her tightly clasped lips. Me: "Am I the earliest person ever for an appointment?" "Bwahaha..." We both broke out laughing loudly.
All I can say is, I'm glad I'm thirty-five not seventy-five, 'cause they would have sent me in for memory tests in a heartbeat otherwise. Perhaps they should anyway...
A tad embarrassed, but early for once in her life,