The kind of thing that always happens to me is I’ll go to the store to buy a book on what happened when and I’ll get lost and confused once I get there, forget what I drove out there for, and end up with a book on how to cook things in fifteen minutes, which I certainly don’t need since everything I cook –or, rather, eat– takes less than fifteen minutes to prepare. Most of it doesn’t even involve any preparation at all, unless you consider tearing open a bag of Twizzlers with your teeth a sort of preparation.
But the point I’m trying to make is that I won’t get the book I wanted in the first place –the what-happened-when book– and by the time I get home with the book I didn’t want and don’t need I won’t even remember why I wanted the other book to begin with.
I don’t remember things, I guess you could put it that way. Or: I’m easily confused, or perhaps just plain confused. Which, now that I think of it, was probably why I wanted the what-happened-when book after all.
I also have this problem where I don’t feel like anything. Has that ever happened to you? I mean really don’t feel like anything. I’d even go so far as to say that I don’t feel anything, period, if it wasn’t for the fact that I don’t feel like anything, which I suppose might qualify as feeling something.