The imponderables of life aren't necessarily the big things, they're usually the little things that make up a normal day. Things we take for granted because they're repetitive in nature. Like making coffee in the morning. It's something we do while our brains are still robed in sleep, while we're still on that slow sojourn from the nightly coma to daily wakefulness...
At first, that's what I attributed it to, that I couldn't remember how many scoops of coffee I always put in the basket. I'd just woken up, so I measured out four, but throughout the day, as I thought about it, I still couldn't remember if I was supposed to use three or four. I could remember that our old drip coffeemaker used 3.5, but I couldn't remember how many I used in this percolator. The coffee tasted fine.
Thinking this was just a temporary lapse of memory I let it go, but this morning when I went down to make the coffee I still couldn't remember. This time I used three scoops and coffee still tastes fine, but I think four tasted better.
I seriously think I've killed my "coffee" brain cell because, not only can't I remember the number of scoops I'm supposed to use, I can't remember how it's supposed to taste, strength-wise.
This is weird.
How does one lose something like that? I make the coffee every damned morning, how could I forget something like this in 24 hours? (And no, there's no history of Alzheimer's in my family.) It reminds me of the night my friends and I were sure we'd killed our "sleep" brain cells back in 1987.
