Despite the fact that I’m getting older, I still think I have a pretty good memory. Having said that, the brain can only remember so much. It’s going to forget the stuff that doesn’t really matter. I started thinking about this last night. In my 60 years on this earth, there are a few things I don’t remember.
I don’t remember the last time I ate a radish.
I can’t remember the last time I changed a diaper but I know it probably was for my son.
I don’t recall the last time I actually turned on a television set.
Saying I don’t remember the last time I had a really bad headache is something I probably shouldn’t say because now I’ll probably get one.
I don’t remember the last time I put gas in a car.
No one enjoys helping someone else move, but we all do it anyway and I have too, but except for my own moving, I can’t remember the last time I helped someone else.
I can’t remember the last time I went to a dry cleaners.
Since his death in late September, 1994, I can’t remember a day going by without thinking of my twin brother.
Calculators are online now which, in my view, is pretty much a joke, but I can’t remember the last time I used a real one.
I don’t remember the last time I rode a horse.
The last time I ate a 5th Avenue candy bar I simply can’t recall.
I can’t remember the last time I wore plaid pants and I’m very glad I don’t.
Growing up on a farm, I’ve been behind the wheel of a tractor more than a few times but it’s probably been decades since the last time I did it.
Speaking of growing up on a farm, I can’t remember the last time I milked a cow.
I don’t remember the last time I actually typed on a typewriter or buying paper for it or the last time I used carbon paper.
OK. I’m done. I’m sure there are other things I should be listing here, but I don’t remember what they should be.
(Image from invisvision.com)