Like most folks who reach a certain age, I write notes to help me remember stuff. However, this isn’t recent– I’ve done it for years, with varying degrees of success. And because I’m a writer, I tend to do it more than many people, I suspect.
For the short term, the notes serve me well, and nobody was happier than I was when sticky notes came along. “Dry Cleaners!” commands a neon pink sticky on my car’s sun visor, and I remember to redeem my best black wool pants instead of standing in front of the closet wondering where they are.
I also make notes on things I observe or may want to write about. Sometimes a wait at the doctor’s office or at the oil change place gives me time to make notes on a short story idea or possible article. This is good. What isn’t so good is when the notes go cold and I have no idea what they once referenced. There is always at least one notebook in my purse, and going through some of the old ones is enough to make my head spin.
“Potty training experts, $120 a week” reads one mysterious entry. This must have been a story idea, since nobody at my house except the kitten has needed potty training for decades.
A hospital stay led me to observe that the names I read repeatedly seemed to become old friends or familiar places: “Stearis”–wasn’t that the name of that nice family that lived next door? “Fort James”–did once we go there for a weekend? How about “Tronex,” a brand of isolation gown which sounds like a new and improved Trojan?
The ones which really stump me are the ones which over time have come to make no sense at all. “Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet” is carefully noted. I have no idea why. And my all time favorite, so far: “The old woman could not but the pig went with him.” Hmmm.
I write notes for everything too. Thank goodness for Post-Its! My daughter, only 18, writes reminders on her phone. She’s always setting them and, when she looks back, has a good laugh. 🙂