Goofing Up

I am always goofing up.

Like right now.

I took a shower, got totally clean clothes on, did my hair and hopped into the car. I pushed the garage door opener and backed the car out, kept my foot on the brake and took my phone out to get directions to the dentist.

I need to get the address of the dentist so I could put it in my navigation system. I can almost get there without it, but not quite.

At that time, I thought, hum, check to make sure what time the appointment is. I was at the dentist a couple of weeks ago and got a temporary crown. This time I was to get the permanent one.

Scrolling through my texts, which was where I believed I got the message saying I had an appointment today, I found one for Cincinnati Dental Services for, say, 8:30 August 30. I did my mental calendar, trying to figure out today’s date, counting forward from our anniversary.

Hum. I had called them yesterday to cancel that one and they said they didn’t see an appointment listed.

Here is the background on that. I can’t yet found a dentist here, so I made an appointment in Cincinnati with our old dentist. Then, because I had a tooth that was bothering me and knowing a Cincinnati dentist might be inconvenient for a dental emergency, I kept looking for one down here.

Voila, I found a very nice and good dentist here, so I got the temporary crown work done and all I need is the permanent.

I don’t know about you but my text rennin and writing skills are very subpar.

I could have sworn that I got a text from Dr. Cauthen’s office stating I had an appointment today at 8:30, hence I got up and took am antibiotic because if you have a bionic hip, you always need to take an antibiotic before anyone plays hockey in your mouth.

I scrolled and scrolled and then I found the Cincinnati Dental text. Oh Shitzu, it happened, again. I goofed up.

Is it just me or is anyone else misplacing their marbles?

It is my habit to place things on my calendar … just not on the right day.

Oh, and my texts? If you receive one that goes something like this, “What sufi helldpk to? i nah[ dohgi to aide fled, ai che aohhl you want lhwoufn ge anuo7d?”

It is probably from me and I am simply saying, “Hi, I am going to the store. Do you want me to get you anything?” I call it fat finger syndrome.

My daughters think I am on crack when they read my texts. And I am forever sending the wrong person the wrong text. I did it Sunday. And that can make things interesting.

There is a good chance that I have also sent accidental swear words, too. Often, all I receive its a message back is a question mark.

Oh, and while we are on the subject of texts. Texts are fine for giving information, (contrary to my inability to read it correctly). But for long conversations, I am better at an email or phone call.

One of my daughters could win the fastest texting competition. Before I have time to answer one texts, 10 more have come in. And it drives me nuts!!!

There are times when I think with all of these technical outlets, our communication is actually worse than it used to be. Face-to-face conversation is waning. But our fingers are flying.

Well, at least I am clean and ready to go. Maybe I should check my schedule to see when I can show up at the wrong place, at the wrong time, this afternoon.

It does make the appointment brief.


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