Discombobulated

For a while I thought I was developing dementia and was greatly relieved to learn a time of mental fog is not unusual after the death of a spouse. Most of the time I think I do all right but it's the little things that get to me.

I have the attention span of a flea in a hot skillet. I simply cannot concentrate or focus. I've only managed to read one book since Bob died. 

One day I counted new summer teeshirts in my closet and was surprised when the number was ten. I have no recollection of ordering ten shirts. I thought perhaps I'd placed my order twice, but every one of them is different.

I want to be kind to the earth but I never remember to carry in my reusable bags at the grocery store. I always buy a new one and promise myself to do better next time. I now have six bags in the passenger seat of my car. I even sat my purse on them in order not to forget, but still I got to the check out lane and realized the bags were in the car.

I understand why they advise waiting several months or a year before making major decisions. I think that is wise advice. I suppose time is the only cure for discombobulation.