Am I "Getting Older" or is it "Sabotage"?

So, I think wine has an amnesiac effect on me.  (Wait a sec, Microsoft told me to change to “effect” instead of “affect”…  That’s not right, is it?  I think it should be “affect”.  Maybe wine affects that part of the brain too.)  Yes, it must be the wine.   

My friends are trying to tell me it’s because I’m getting older.  

This morning, the work gang was downstairs getting our water and other breakfast-ial items, when co-worker Nancy asked, “What’d you do last night?”  I stared at her.  I could not remember.  Conversation went on without me as my gaze drifted out the window.  “What the heck did I do last night?”  Isn’t that weird?  

The answer is quite a pleasant one, Services for Older Citizens (SOC) had a Grand Opening Preview of their brand new facility on Ridge Road, right behind Cottage Hospital.  They totally renovated the old nurses’ house.  It’s really very nice, and will be great for the community.  (Congrats to Sharon Maier and all the folks at SOC!)   

And there was lots of wine and cheese.  Now hold your horses!  I didn’t drink that much.  But, being honest, I’m not usually a wine drinker so my limits are always a little untested.  I think, with “my usual”, I can tell when I’m near to having too much and I can back off.  With wine, once I start sensing that feeling, it’s already too late.  

So, this morning, I had no answer for Nancy’s question.  “What’d you do last night?”  “I have no idea.”   

Of course, there is a logical explanation for this:  I’m thinking I was kidnapped and drugged, only to be returned in time to watch the episodes of “Smash” that we missed.  No, I wasn’t smashed, we watched “Smash”.  Big difference.  So, yeah, kidnapped and drugged.  I’m sure I was taken downtown and roughed up a bit until they realized that they’d never get it out of me!  Whatever “it” was.  So, they returned me back to my family.  Whew.  What an ordeal.  Oh, but their mysterious drug left me with a slight headache this morning.   

Small price to pay for keeping our National Secrets … umm, secret.  

Again, it must be the wine, because it certainly can’t be anything to do with the natural progression of getting older, could it?  They say that I’ll start forgetting where I put my keys, or I’ll find myself in the basement wondering “What did I come down here for?”  That hasn’t happened, exactly.  But I’m worried that might be on the horizon.  I can tell that my eyesight is starting to go.  A friend showed me a photo on her phone and I needed to slide it further away from me for it to come into focus.  In the words of Bing Crosby from “White Christmas”:  “Yeah, I’ve been playing the trombone a lot lately too…” 

What’s next?  Will I be getting shorter?  Will I not be able to hit a curveball?  (That last one hasn’t been confirmed in a few years actually.)   

Will I start forgetting people’s names?  That’s happened already.  I’ve never been good with names.  “Yes, and you are??”  “Mary Jo and Sandy, and this is Jane.  We are your sisters and this is your Mother.”  “Ahh, yes, nice to see you again...”  

What about running to the bathroom several times during the night?  Well, that happens when I drink too much whiskey…  See above.  It’s all connected.   

Yeah, I’m not getting old.  I’m just going to have to be more vigilant and watch out for those kidnappers.  And I promise to stay away from the batting cages if I’ve had anything to drink, or if I’ve just been kidnapped.

And it’s good to know that there is an organization like SOC for when I do get old.  Okay, now, where are my keys?  Those kidnappers must have really worked me over!      

        -- Tim