The other night, at 11pm, I sent hubby off to see if #3 Brat had come home from his trip on his motorbike. I hadn’t seen him, and he hadn’t said goodnight. The bike was there – #3 Brat was secure in bed.
It turns out he’d been here, said goodnight to me, even given me a peck on the cheek… I still don’t remember it. People call, brats tell me things – it goes straight out of my head. I know they won’t put me in a home just yet, but it probably won’t be too long – unless…
They give people hearing implants. Why can’t I have a memory stick implanted? My hard drive is so full of useless information, I could use a “delete” button to make room for new and more relevant stuff, as well as some way of retrieving whatever’s buried deep, deep down.
While we’re at it, #4 Brat would like a “good humour” implant, #1 Brat a GPS behind her ear, and would someone please throw in a “tidiness” device for all of us…
Stumble it!
