I have a lot of items to be responsible for. Glasses, for example. I couldn’t find them this morning. I walked out of the house this morning without them. I thus started the day by cleaning the horse pen. I missed a lot of finer stuff, the stuff that blends in with the sandy gravel.

I came back in the house, and by the process of elimination, found my glasses. They were on the windowsill by the bed. I’d last had them in hand when I climbed into bed. I take them off when I read, so logic prevailed. I did not find them the first time I looked because they were behind a pile of glasses.

Hearing Aids. I’m also responsible for these two very small items, which are easily misplaced or lost. I gotta have them in place when I am in the former banquet room of the historic Eagle Hotel because I can’t hear a damn thing without them. Actually, I can hear the construction going on across the street, but I can’t hear people’s voices if they are just a few feet distant. The walkways between the four sets of bookcases are lengthy, and (as I’ve been told) books absorb sound. But without the aides in place, I have to go directly up to the person who has just spoken, stand in front of them and ask them to repeat themselves.

The acoustics in my sister Eleanor’s home, particularly the living room, are also terrible. I forgot the aids my last visit – I knew I was in for it because El is not a very patient person. She had to repeat herself several times and very quickly got frustrated with me. I wanted to, but did not say, “gimme a break. I forgot the aids. Be patient because I have a hard time hearing you.” Instead, I vowed to be a more attentive listener.

Wallet. Read my previous two dispatches for the same old same old on this subject. Yesterday I didn’t lose my wallet. I knew where it was. I forgot it. I’d left it in my kitchen addition glove and hat drawer. There was a middle-aged woman working at the package counter at the post office, and as well a younger fellow who looked as though he’d recently had his head shaved. I hoped that he might be the one to give me an assist because he seemed kid of mellow, meaning more forgiving. No, the luck of the draw indicated that she was the one who said, “How may I help you?”

As it turned out, she was more of a hinderance than a help. Nope. Couldn’t get that package without a slip.

Pete had the packing slip today. (I got up last night and put it on his computer in the kitchen addition.) He of course had his ID and was able to claim nine boxes of books. Number 10 – they didn’t know where it was.

Pete and I emptied the boxes as we talked with Brad Schmidt of Alaska English Adventures. He is an ebullient fellow, who’s projects do dovetail with ours.

Car Keys. I have some leeway here. If I can’t find them and they are in the car the car will still start.

I have a lot to keep track of. And I don’t do a good job of it.

Oh yeah, and then there’s the cell phone. All I have to say is that this is just more of the same old same old.

Next: 268. 10/2/24: Not out of the Woods Yet