I got a fake email this morning telling me that I needed to buy more iCloud storage space. I knew it was fake because:
- I purchased some extra storage space about three weeks ago, so I should have plenty.
- The email address looked very suspicious.
- The price was wrong. I know exactly how much extra storage costs.
But the sentiment did make me laugh. Has my brain reached its storage limit, and if so, what am I going to do about it?
Like my wardrobe, my brain is absolutely full of useless information I don’t want or need. It needs a really good clean out.
This morning I was trying to remember the name of the elderly man who used to live next door. Neither my husband nor I could recall his first name, but eventually we realised this was because we always called him Mr Perkins. He was a lovely old gentleman, but his wife was a horrible old bag who could sing like an angel but was otherwise awful. She used to give him a list of jobs every day and then berate him at the end of the day if he didn’t complete them all to her satisfaction.
One day she simply disappeared. We thought maybe he had murdered her and buried her in the back yard but were too nervous to ask. It transpired that she had gone to live in Tasmania. We were very happy to hear this for a variety of reasons, not least because it meant we didn’t live next door to a murderer. One day she came back, moved him into a retirement village and sold the house. He didn’t seem to have much say in the matter and we were sad for him.
Although I couldn’t initially recall the name of Mr Perkins, I knew it was in my brain somewhere, along with the name of my third-grade teacher (Mrs Robertson), and the number of hearts an octopus has (three).
I also struggle to remember my husband’s mobile phone number. I always have to look it up. I worry that I will be in an accident one day and the ambulance people will ask me for his contact details, and I will just have to shrug and admit I don’t know. I know it starts with 0418 and ends with 918 but I can never remember what’s in the middle. When I say, “what’s your mobile number again?” he always looks at me strangely. I have saved it in my phone under his name and under ICE which apparently stands for ‘In Case of Emergency’. Perhaps I should also save it under ‘husband’?
I don’t think there’s a good way of clearing out my brain, but I do know that getting adequate sleep is important. I haven’t been sleeping very well lately, and after a night of tossing and turning, I’m very conscious that concentrating and remembering are noticeably more difficult.
Lately I’ve started carrying a notepad and jotting down things I want to remember. I keep a record of films I’d like to see, wines I’d like to try, and most importantly, books I’d like to read. I also use the notes function on my phone to jot down all of the above, plus ideas for articles or things I find funny or interesting.
On the whole, I try not to stress about forgetting things. I met a woman recently who said (quite cheerfully) “Oh, I remember nothing” and I thought her attitude was a lot better than constantly worrying and apologising for not remembering.
Margaret Moon 