Last week Husband was puzzling over the location of a bag of compost. He'd bought two but could only find one and couldn't remember finishing the other.
This morning he said, 'I found the bag of compost. It was in the spare bedroom.'
Meanwhile yesterday morning I opened the wardrobe, glanced down, and thought, 'What on earth is that shiny metal thing?'
It was a frying pan.
In a few years' time - or sooner - daily life is just going to be one huge adventure for us.
5 comments:
I wouldn't worry until such time as someone starts frying up the compost for lunch.
It sounds like it is already. We do the same stuff here!
Things end up in the strangest places. When you can't find your keys and it turns out they're in the refrigerator, that might be a cause for concern.
Love,
Janie
Ha, you're but a spring chicken compared to us 74 year olds! Nothing unusual about being a bit absent minded. As Debra says, no worries until you start cooking the compost (or pouring yourself a nice glass of antifreeze).
I'm glad to be part of this community!
Post a Comment