Am I losing it? Am I going un poco loco? Or is it just late in the week, and is the accumulated lack of sleep catching up with me, as usual? I'm not sure, because I did something today that I haven't done before. (And by the way, is there such a thing as an "accumulated lack" of anything?)
Ordinarily when I walk out to the mailbox in the afternoon, I take the cordless phone with me. It doesn't work all the way to the end of the drive, but it does work about three-quarters of the way there. And back, too, come to think of it. It's become a habit to grab it as I go out the front door to check the mail.
This afternoon I found myself halfway down the driveway with the TiVo remote in my hand. I knew it didn't feel right, but I looked at it as if maybe it had morphed into the wrong device. I half expected it to ring anyway, and then laugh at me when I tried to answer it. But it wasn't going to ring. Out there under the eucalyptus grove, it wasn't even going to change the channel.
It wasn't going to pause live action or replay the last seven seconds, either. If it would do that in real life the way it does on my TV screen, I'd carry it around with me everywhere. Who couldn't use a "do over" every so often? (Or fifty times a day?) I'd probably just use it to get to the front of the bank line, though.
When I realized it was my own mistake and not a freakish act of nature that had brought me to this sorry state, I shoved the remote into my pocket. Then I looked around to make sure I was alone. I was so alone that even the birds and lizards missed my little pantomime. No one could see me, and no one cared, but I was embarrassed anyway.
Not embarrassed enough not to write about it in my journal, of course. That takes something on a little grander scale. I haven't reached that threshold yet this week.