Bookmarks

 Remembering where we left off is usually important.  More so, to a surgeon than someone eating breakfast.

(Oh yes, I was about to bite this muffin).

At my age I am down to a handful of bookmarks.  Consequently, I’ve become very picky as to where I use them.

When I get up from my chair and instantly forget where I was headed, I don’t bother with a bookmark.  I just sit back down until it comes to me.  If the doorbell rings again, then I say, “Oh yah, I was going to answer the door.

Should I get an idea for a story, I immediately write down some notes.  All too often something will interrupt my train of thought.  These notes act as my bookmark.

Not that my notes ever make sense.

This entire bookmark process follows a linear progression, which is tied directly to age.  It just makes sense that the less time remaining, the fewer bookmarks needed, and yet, the catch to that is, the older you become, the more forgetful you are.

This isn’t anything you are going to win.  It’s just the way it is.

Of course, the last bookmark, letting everyone know where we left off, gets tucked into the pages of our history by someone else.

OK, look -

I didn't set off to write anything depressing.  It's this darn pen.  Turns out, it was given to me by a mortician and the only reason I know that is because of the advertising on it.  It's just such a nice pen - I hate to toss it out.

Maybe I can scrape the advertising off with this little pocket knife.  Complements of: Suicide Prevention Center - Gary Indiana.

*****

And before I go, I have one final question.  Why is it always the same building that says, Sewing Machines & Vacuum Cleaner Repair?  Why are those two always together?

I'm just asking...