My memory for some things is pitifully bad. Remembering due dates for library books, for example. And bill-paying. And the construction of the pluscuamperfecto tense in Spanish and when and how to use the subjunctivo. And lots of other stuff that is actually important.
Ask me about trivial things, however, and my mind is that proverbial steel trap.
Today is November 29th. I’m still at my mom’s, still enjoying the time away from my life, relaxed with my family.
Oh, and it’s the birthday of … oh, let’s call him Vladimir, the Russian guy I dated eight years ago. Even when we were together, Vlad didn’t remember my birthday, and by now he has surely forgotten my name, and yet here I am, remembering him, remembering that today is his birthday.
So … when do I get to forget?