Mostly True Memoirs
I Am Losing My Marbles
Am I losing my marbles?
Yesterday I got up early.
I need extra time to get ready these days because of the crutches.
I got dressed, and I had my breakfast.
I knocked on the Grown Son’s bedroom door, concerned because he wasn’t up yet.
He snarled at me.
Finally, I told Bob that it was time to get ready to go.
“Physical therapy. I have an appointment.”
“No,” he said, perplexed, “your appointment is tomorrow.”
“No it’s not, it’s today.”
I checked my phone.
Today is Sunday.
Time flies when you’re bored.
I have spent way, way, way too many days on the couch with ice on my knee.
I have read several books, played way too much Candy Crush, and watched way too many IG reels.
I’m bored out of my mind.
Well that explains the Grown Son’s snarky attitude.
I apologized to him at a more reasonable hour.
He muttered something or other about losing my marbles.
He may be right.
At this point, my marbles are just as feeble as my knee.
I can’t wait until I can walk again.