forgetfulness, with anecdotes that’ll make you laugh and say, “That’s SO me!”
The Case of the Vanishing Phone Number
Picture this: I’m at a bustling coffee shop, the air thick with the aroma of caffeine and chatter. I hit it off with someone new, and just as we’re about to exchange numbers, disaster strikes. My mind goes blank. A tumbleweed rolls by in the dusty corners of my brain.
“Uh… could you hold on a sec? I just need to… uh… check my phone,” I stammer, desperately clutching at my digital lifeline.
My own phone number. The one I’ve had for five years. The one I should be able to recite in my sleep. It’s gone. Vanished. Flown the coop.
Now, you might be thinking, “Okay, forgetting your phone number is one thing, but surely it can’t get any worse…” Oh, my friend. You underestimate the depths of my forgetfulness.
One evening, after a long day, I arrived home, groceries in hand, ready to collapse. But as I reached for my keys… empty pocket. Panic surged through me like a jolt of electricity.
Where were my keys? I retraced my steps, mentally replaying the day. Nothing. I checked every nook and cranny of my apartment. Still nothing. Just when I was about to resign myself to a night locked out, I stumbled upon a sight that made me question my sanity.
There, nestled snugly between the cartons of milk and leftover takeout, were my keys. In the refrigerator.
Leave a Reply