Mental slippage

Don’t you love those unambiguous signals that you’re getting older? I don’t mean pasta-fueled ass spread, or no longer considering “staying drunk” a primary goal on vacation, or wishing these idiot kids would pull their damned pants up. I mean isolated and well-defined moments of mental slippage. I got jolted with one a little while ago.

What Day Is It, My Fine Fellow?
It was a spooky morning because of an approaching thunderstorm, and I’m not yet fully acclimated to the time change (hey, that might be another sign right there). It was considerably darker than I thought it ought to be, and that’s disorienting, even when you’re young. That factor can’t be ignored.

So I was walking to the bathroom and caught a glimpse of Lea’s alarm clock. 7:01.

“Lea, it’s late! Do you know that?” She raised her head. We looked at each other for a full 10 or 15 seconds, trying to clear the fog.

“Isn’t it Saturday?” Another 10 or 15 seconds.

“Yes, you’re right.” On about.

Now I’ve had the odd, three-seconds-long “what day is it?” moment before. But this was the first time I was absolutely and sustainedly convinced—and wrong.

That’s one slip. Here is another, albeit one I’m less concerned about:

Use It or Lose It
I didn’t use an address/contacts book until 1998, when I started using a PDA. Even then, I didn’t really need it (for that; being able to carry large documents was another thing entirely). Still, I dutifully loaded it with all of the names, addresses, telephone numbers, and email addresses that were important to me—from memory. I needed this information for 125-150 people, and had never had a problem just keeping it all in my head.

So why use that functionality at all? I said “well, it’ll be nice to have the backup.” And I think that’s when this particular decay really started. I knew I could look it up, so my memory for contact information gradually atrophied. And of course, speed-dialing contributes heavily to the problem. When you only have to keep the information in your head long enough to program a button, you have no chance of remembering it.

I’ve occasionally considered seeing if I could go back to keeping my contacts in my head. Doesn’t make much sense, though. I use my PDA for too much else, so it might as well track those too.

It’s not such a big deal to me. I guess I miss having it as a parlor trick in meetings and what-not, but I don’t think it says anything meaningful about my mental condition for two reasons: 1) I can tie it with reasonable certainty to the introduction of a PDA into my routine, and it followed said introduction, not vice versa; and 2) I still have a sharp memory for many other things, like, uh…well, let me get back to you on that. Heh.

This is-it-Saturday thing, though, wasn’t that. It was a slip. It was the mental motor spinning freely, with no load. A zillion RPM, doing no work. I had to stop and reengage the belt. Doesn’t happen often. In fact, I can’t recall it ever happening so completely.

Oh, well. First thing in the morning. Unusually dark. No big deal. Right?

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