Swirling the Tank of Stupidity and Loving It

I think I’ve regressed. Ever since I heard on the Today Show that researchers are finding that mental capacity begins to decline at age 45; I’ve been in a downward spiral towards dumbness. I don’t even want to try to spin out of it either. I’m happy just to clang along being a feeble old fool. I’m heading straight towards dementia and wearing my bra on outside of my shirt.

And I never thought it would happen to me. I thought I’d be the one who was sharp right till the end. I had sound reasoning on my side in the fact that generations of my family members had kept their wits. Evidently, I’m going to be hanging dumbass limb on my family tree. Oh treasure. My aunt will never let me live it down.

I began to figure out that I was only a few years away from a slobbering buffon when I tried to do the new Facebook timeline on my profile page. I have no clue how to even begin that feat. Maybe I should grab a preschooler off the street and ask him to do it for me. That would be if I could even understand what the little genius was saying.

The next red flag rose when I was surfing for a publishing company. One of my New Year’s resolutions is to get serious with marketing my manuscript and, when I thought I was smart, I decided to do some research. Luckily, a great blog I subscribe to posted an article on publishers and I quickly delved into it. It was like I was reading a foreign language. I had to ask a good friend to decipher it for me. I’m swirling the tank of knowledge at this point. Getting flushed as I type.

Part of me doesn’t even care. I figure I’ve got enough wits to continue my ‘day’ job and well screw the rest. Part of me is still in denial and thinking that I’ll get smart again soon. Part of me must be drunk. I’m sure part of me is pre-menstrual. That’s a lot of parts to reconcile. Or spar with. Or flat out ignore.

In any case, I’ve got my work cut out for me. If I’m turning into an idiot (okay a bigger one than I already am), I need to get my affairs in order. If this is just a phase, I need to figure out a way to make fun of it. And if I’m premenstrual, I need get off this damn laptop and find some chocolate. I kinda hope it’s Option C here; I could use some chocolate.

Keep the brain engaged people. Forty-five is coming quicker than you can imagine.

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