Tuesday, 19 August 2014

fleeting thoughts and things

Is it not amazing and immensely aggravating how you think up many blog topics while on the bus, or in the middle something more important, but  you  cannot write it down, and you forget. And then you have a total memory failure. This happens to me often. It make me think the brain is shrinking, disintegrating, turning into custard,  sinking into oblivion, and just plain not working. It is not a happy  thing to happen.

So here I sit, having a rest from crocheting and from contemplating possible colour schemes, while pondering the stream of consciousness, both in theory and practice. Perhaps there are so many minor matters cluttering up both brain and memory that true creativity does not have the chance of a snowflake in hell.

So, the news from this tiny corner of the world.

The internet is very irrational and episodic. I fear a call to my ISP must be made. This prospect is mega daunting.

And for some reason or other, the iPad charger is not working. It sends some sort of error message, which, like 98 % of error messages, matches exceedingly poorly wth human comprehension. The iPad went down to 4% which was rather scary. I foresee a visit to the Apple Store, and long queues to endure.

The printer needs new ink, so I went out and bought some, but am not sure the shop sold me the ones I need.

It has been raining and raining. Not happy.

I had a medical checkup this afternoon. All is well. I could not remember the nurse's name (Liz) and the doctor and I had an impassioned  discussion about media treatment of women, sexism, and such like. I had to get a referral to the breast cancer specialist. Why cannot they give you an ongoing referral, instead of a new one every year?


2 comments:

Elephant's Child said...

Great news about the medical checkup.
The brain drain? And fog. Sadly I am there with you.

Molly said...

Oh the joys of growing old! I think though that you have sown the seed for a new post... Even if I could, I'd be afraid to peek inside my brain, afraid of how clogged every nook and cranny of it might be with 'custard!"