I won't handle heavy machinery

I might just be losing my ever-lovin' mind here. But you be the judge.

I've 'forgotten' to send out cards and letters, verification emails and online bill payments. I chalk it up to the recent spate of craft shows I'm in a tizzy about getting ready for, but in the back of my mind I can hear my Gran bemoaning the loss of her marbles. Except my Gran's voice is starting to resemble my own more and more.

Yesterday, we lost power for a couple of hours. I was in the midst of lighting a candle to place in the washroom (because I cannot pee in the dark. Don't ask me, I don't know). I was chatting away to The Boy about the possible reasons for the blackout as I flicked the lighter and happily fired up an oven mitt. It didn't even dawn on me what I'd done until I saw the fire reflect in his eyes and smelled the lovely odour of burning polyester. Mmmmm.

I made peanut butter cookies this morning, only I baked them for 11 minutes like the recipe says. So I ask you: Who bakes cookies in blind accordance with the damn recipe? They were still icky in the middle, so after mulling about it turned to brooding about it, then that dissolved into worrying about the state of my mental health again, I took action. Yes, as a Woman of Action I turned the oven back on hours later and torched the little suckers. They are now no longer little balls of dough smushed with a fork, but are now crispy critters ready to be crumbled over my ice cream. Hey, at least they are no longer raw; salmonella is no one's friend.

Yesterday I went to give blood at 0640 in what I thought was a coordinating sweatshirt and tearaways. Once I was sitting under the evil glare of the office flourescent lights I noticed that I looked with my disheveled hair, lack of makeup and clothing choices, much like an escaped mental patient. I willed my blood into the vials as quickly as possible so I could get home and forget that any living person ever saw me like that.

I'm 2004's answer to The Absent-Minded Professor, so I am. I certainly hope there's a cure.

Posted at 4:32 p.m.