Our public radion station is having a fund drive, and one of the gifts they keep advertising is something called a Brain Gym, which is apparently a $500 piece of software which is supposed to keep aging brains from turning to mush.
I fear it’s already too late for me. I never could remember much, and now I can’t remember anything.
Still, I don’t think I’m going to spring for the brain gym.
Some things I do remember. For instance, I remember that I was taking things out of the washing machine when I considered that perhaps my membership at the Y is the equivalent of a brain gym — i.e.,
[Ooops. Brief break while I edit by email a paper N is writing. Today is paper day — over breakfast I looked at M’s paper on Huck Finn. Dropped her off at school and saw a half-written paper on Herodotus in my inbox from N.]
i.e., I sort of scoff at the idea of a brain gym — I can just edit my kids’ papers, or do sudoku, or, I don’t know, relearn algebra. But perhaps people who are already good at physical exercise scoff at the idea of getting someone to design an exercise program for them (which I have yet to do because it seems too embarrassing) and prefer instead to ride their bikes up the hill on a daily basis, or swim for an hour, or — I don’t even know. Plant 48 little thyme plants — there’s a killer!
But this thought will forever be linked in my mind with the inside of the laundry closet and the feeling of wet clothing. It was a dark load.
Anyway. In further thoughts, our cat Jim (of box fame) got in a fight, again. Well, a week ago. I think he got bitten on the head, where he now has an infected wound. I keep cleaning it out (which is quite disgusting) and, strangely, now I’m his best friend in the world. He wants to sleep where I’m typing, and he purrs just to look at me.
Lucy is miffed. She thinks I belong to her, although it is K that she loves, due to his propensity for sitting in her favorite chair watching television, I think. She likes to sit on him.
Well, that’s all I have for you today. I was going to post a picture or two, but I can’t seem to find my camera. Either I, with my aging brain, have mislaid it, or one of my aging siblings took it with them, thinking, no doubt, that it belonged to them.