It's true. Weeks can go by and I don't realize it's been more than a couple of days. Partly as a result, I'm always afraid that reality is shifting around me.
Frequently -- once a week, maybe -- my father would pull up outside the drug store on Main St., give me a dollar or whatever it was, and tell me to run in and get the two papers they were saving for him. I'd go in, ask for the papers for our surname, hand over the money, and return. It was fairly routine.
One day he gave me some money and told me to walk over and pick up the papers for him, so I walked to the drug store and asked for the papers for our surname. And the person behind the counter stared at me.
Eventually she figured out what was going on, and she said they hadn't saved the papers for him for years.
...
Turned out instead, the place saving his papers was two miles away. And so I had to walk two miles uphill to get the papers.
Years?
This stuff is always happening to me. And it always freaks me out a little.
