2002-11-05 - 11:01 p.m.
I hate it when I feel like I'm losing my mind. Seriously. Today I came home for lunch and then went all the way back to work and realized I didn't have my backpack (aka purse). And I had no clue whether I had just walked out without it (I never do that) or if I set it down on the front porch to wrestle with the sticking lock on the door and left it there (horrors). I decided to take a risk that it was safely on the bench inside rather than waiting to be stolen on the porch, which is to say I did not come all the way back just to make sure and cause myself to be half an hour late. And I was lucky. Again. It was there.
I have tried to make a ritual out of always having keys in hand when I depart the house, because it would be difficult and expensive, if not impossible, to replace the locks on our antique door if we ever had to break in. But that doesn't keep me from doing other stupid things with the keys. One night I left them in plain sight on the seat of the car, and didn't go in search of them until the following day. I have locked my keys in the car with the engine running in the driveway of the public library. I have left my wallet in plain sight in the car. Not on purpose. Not because I am trusting and believe in the basic goodness of humanity. But because I am absent minded.
I have launched large scale searches for lost wallets/keys/ checkbooks that end up being found in the coat pocket in which I stuck them for safekeeping. I lose gloves, scarves, hats, glasses so frequently that I virtually never own all of the above items at once.
I always look back and try to figure out: what was I thinking? Usually I am in the middle of some big narrative in my head and my body is just on automatic pilot. Today at noon, I was thinking about the guitar music I had been practicing, and feeling kind of discouraged. I had been practicing a song that was making me sigh a lot, and I was thinking about that song, and about my birthday and wondering whether I really am too old to learn to play the guitar and when would I admit it. I walked out with my keys in hand, carrying my organizer and a bottle of orange juice, so my hands were satisfied that I was walking out carrying something, and they didn't bother to let me know this wasn't all I needed. This is what happens when you live 90% in your head. The body isn't very discerning when comes to taking care of things on its own.
I wish I were more mindful of my surroundings. I will be for a while. Every time I have a close call, and think that my carelessness has compromised our safety in some way, or lost something I really liked, it wakes me up for a while. I do a paranoid little check as I am getting ready to leave. Do I have everything? Is the coffee pot off? Did I put away the milk? But after a time I get complacent again and some new thing is forgotten.
Some say there are no "accidents," that if you can't remember to take care of something you must not really care about it. But I don't know. It is just that in life there are so many things to care about, and it is hard to care about them all at a high level. I always have good intentions for caring about everything. I always swear to myself that I will vaccuum the coils on the dehumidifier and rotate my tires and flip the mattress. It is no wonder that our minds get stuffed with stuff and some of the easier tasks are put on automatic pilot. But my auomatic pilot....I don't know about him. Sometimes I think he's asking to lose his license.
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