Prior to this life-crushing dump into old age, I tended to be amused, and a little firm with myself about not doing it too often, whenever I made some trivial life error; when I forgot a familiar fact and had to look it up, when I left a light on that should have been off, when I forgot to change the water in my pet’s bowl in the morning, or when I peeled golden sweet potatoes for dinner instead of the white russet potatoes that I had intended, that sort of thing. I was a very well organized woman, it came naturally to me, effortlessly, and it was mildly pleasant. I recognized what a nice life skill I had in my orderliness, and I appreciated it. Whenever I made a small, ordinary life mistake, I felt indulgent with my young self, laughed and thought, ah, there it is, my little mistake for this year.
Well, today old me discovered that yesterday was Sunday and not Monday as I had thought. If I had known that, I could have saved myself the stress and expenditure of strength that I made yesterday to complete some very important and very unpleasant life tasks against the clock, scrambling through a day doing work that I actually had two days to do. This realization made old, slow me jealous of long-gone, quick, young, smarty pants me. I have rarely felt jealousy in life, and this was a surprisingly strong emotion, it was visceral. Muddled in old age, it is so frustrating to make these small, and sometimes quite significant little mistakes all day long, each day and every day.
Oh, and when did the mere act of getting dressed for the day become an Olympic event? It is now, for me.
Caption: There Is Nothing Abstract About Jealousy, It Is Visceral.
Iconography: The viscera are internal human organs,
bottom heart, center lungs, top liver lobes,
with green badge of perseverance or maybe it is cancer,
while blue vase of time spills golden bits of life lost forever.
by Annmarie Throckmorton 2018