I'm not as together as I'd like to think. Two recently mailed items of late have suffered from insufficient postage, a third returned because I'd put some random address on it rather than that intended. Yesterday I managed to lose my eyeglasses, a moderate crisis of rather expensive proportions in the resolution. Lately the anomia seems to have been on the uptick, though possibly I only have noticed this because I've been deep in writing Sunspin. Also, the slightly higher order memory errors, like confusing the Web comics Questionable Content and Something Positive in conversation.
I never used to make such mistakes. Or at least very rarely. Now, in the past week or so, there has been a rash of them. This worries me.
Maybe it's not lingering chemo side effects. Maybe these are middle aged moments. As one of my doctors said to me a while back, much of what I've been grumbling about is part of aging. Apparently I'm just lucky enough to have specific, catastrophic events to associate with the transitions.
Man, I hate this stuff. My brain used to be a finely-honed precision machine. Now it's finally a moaning imprecise bean.