Memory lapses

When I was a little younger, about 50 years, my memory was good. It is still very good but so darn short that it defies description. Let me give you a demonstration…
Now, what was I writing about?
To my recollection this condition, also known as Alzheimer’s disease or Senior Citizen moments, (SCM) has started when my parents asked me to do something and for the life of me I could not remember what it was and I really had some great moment of “forgetfulness”. It became progressively better until today. I am now in Mexico, or is it Tahiti, (you see, here it comes again) and it is the rainy season here or at least it rains a lot this time around and because it is very hot during the day, I leave the hutches open for the hot air to be replaced with fresh hot air. There really is no difference in the quality but it works for the mind. In the night dark, hot air fills the cabin and it is a great relief. At least one cannot see the sweat washing down the dust from the body and leaving a clean path on the otherwise almost believable tan.
Now, what I want to talk about is this blessing in disguise called memory lapse, memory blanks or something like that, I forgot which, but it is like this. After I decided to go for errands in the morning, I look around on the boat, making sure all is where it should be and remind my cats to remind me what I may forget during my absence. The hutches are open to ventilate the air, the wind scoop is in place to catch some of the hot wind and guide it into the cabin to keep it hot and fresh then kissing the cat’s good-bye, and Phew…I swing Tarzan-like up the wall that the vessel is tied to, get my trusted low on fuel bicycle (unless it got stolen over night) and ride into town. The weather is great. Some clouds in the sky make for a perfect photo and I will have time to get my chores done before I return to the boat.
The Internet café greets me with the familiar message that the server is down with its customary problem and the reliable staff brings me the customary coffee that is reliably cold by the time it gets to me. While I wait for the Internet server to be up again, I fiddle with the lap top, sample the coffee and sure enough; it is just warm.
But the serving girl is reliably efficient and heats it up in the microwave so it is still boiling in the cup and takes ten minutes to cool down again and by the time I remember my coffee, I forgot that I had a cup of coffee waiting for me. I learned to like cold coffee now.
Finally the server is up again, I call up my emails and browse through them. Some of the letters require my immediate attention and I answer them, others can wait and I hope I will have one of those Senior Citizen Moments that will give me an excuse to forget them altogether. But not long into the waiting I am reminded of the open hutches on Symbiosis in form of some wet spots on the table and the screen on the computer. In haste I pack up the laptop, put it into the case and with the intention to reach my boat in a few minutes before it fills with rainwater and sinks, hurry toward the vessel.
But this intention is like that of good parents; they mean well but have no idea how stifling that is. It is a gauntlet as everybody has taken refuge from the deluge and is intent to slow my progress and unless I want to be totally rude, there is no chance to get to the vessel before the rain stops. No explanation short of an outright lie will be accepted and it is useless to argue with this people over the unpleasant prospects of sleeping in a waterbed instead on one. Even when I was almost drowning in bed and was rescued by a phone call was not accepted as a good enough reason to get back without exchanging the latest gossip.
All this is not even their fault. I should remember the many wet nights I spent aboard because of open hutches, but it seems impossible to remember them in the heat of the day.
Now, when I finally make it through the marina and get to the boat, which is still floating, the first observation is that the wind scoop has turned into a very effective funnel and guided the rainwater into the forward cabin at a rate that would make a professional fire hose look like a child’s toy.
Second observation: The companionway hutch is also left open. That means there is water on the Salon sole and the cat dish is filled with water and the cats
will not be happy about it. You may think; big deal but you don’t know my cats. For days they will sniff any food, twitch their tail and an accusing glance that tells you without sounds and better than any human in his wildest dreams possibly could what you can do with that stuff. I love my cats and am doing all that is possible to keep them on my good side because when the chips are down they are the one that keep me sane. I laugh and cry with them and it is amazing how they seem to know when I am at the end of my wits. Those are the times when they drop all aloofness and show their real being and it would put any human to shame.
But back to the present problem that is the water in the boat. Of course you could say boating would be a dry affair without water but there are limits to the madness and sleeping in a waterbed does not turn my crank. It will be days before the bunk is going to be dry enough to consider a try. Not to mention the things that now need to be dried, oiled and aired to prevent rot, oxidation and mildew. Consider that it is raining almost everyday and now you see the problem. Alzheimer’s had its advantages in my youth but it is defiantly a pain in the rear now.
And how do I solve the sleep issue? I turn into mosquito fodder. The cockpit makes a good bed if you are not taller than me, which is 167cm., then you can sleep athwart ships, which is perpendicular to the direction a ship travels for those who are not sea-savvy. Of course the heat is up in the thirties and the only way to get some rest is to sleep in shorts without any other coverings, the perfect offering to the female populace. I'm surrounded, serenaded and devoured because of SCM. I simply forget to buy repellent whenever I go shopping. No one seems to be as popular and as much in demand as I and I even believe they have a pet of the year poster of me in wherever they live. You can imagine that after a heroic battle to keep them at bay I finally succumb to sleep out of sheer exhaustion and thanks to Mr. Alzheimer the starving population has a smorgasbord the following night also and the next…
I must say; this is a kind act if you are the parent of a brood of starving mosquito larvae but Alzheimer did not invent forgetfulness to feed hungry bloodsuckers. He was just wondering how folks would go along without remembering the past. This is my story and I'll stick to it.
Although to its defence I must admit. I can tolerate folks telling me the same joke several times and I still laugh with them. Got to take the good with the bad.
And there are other things that make life interesting and those are how things seem to grow legs and play hide and seek with me or just want to get my goat. Say I’m in the middle of some maintenance work and I need some tools to work with. After using it I put it down to get another thing and then I need that tool again but it has left the building like Elvis. It must have because I cannot find it. Nowhere. I swear, I have not been in another room and I’m not crazy. Well, maybe a little…ok. Don’t push it. So where did I put it? I turn things upside down, I search on, in, at, under and every impossible possibility to find it and I don’t. I’m loosing it. I’m looking everywhere but this tool has without a doubt cloaked itself and became a Clingon. My hollow deck does not function because I forgot hot to operate it or Q is horsing around again so I need to get another tool. I turn and do a step and stub myself on what? The tool I’m looking for has returned or de-cloaked itself and is clearly visible protruding half from my foot.
Experiencing life like this is fun but painful. Everybody has fun watching this but the pain is mine. There is no justice in the world.
But to my greatest delight I have now another chance to lose that tool again without first buying a new one to loose.
Just a few weeks ago I went shopping at a local grocery store and after piling the cart full with perishable items that I obviously love to rot in my cooler on the boat, because I forget to eat it before the foul smell reminds me that I bought it, I could not find my keys for the lock on the bicycle. Here I am with a ton of food in the sweltering heat of the mid-day Mexican sun packed in the backpack and two triple-plastic bags in each hand without the keys to my heavy-duty workhorse. The impression on my face enticed some fellow shoppers to some condescending remarks and the pity of a cab driver who offered me a ride for 200 pesos for a two-minute trip. To the rescue came two dear friends with a van and relieved the sweaty cabbie from his hasty offer. We stuffed the goods into the van and considered to uproot the lantern post and take it along with the bicycle to the boat where I have another set of keys just for a case like this. I decided not to take the post so someone else could use it and have a chance to loose his or her keys like I did.
A little bit later we arrived at the place where the boat is tied to the anchor and the wall and my friends left. There is some walking to do through a heavy overgrown jungle including some ancient ruins from the last economical miscalculation of some entrepreneurs dream before reaching the vessel and by the time I get to the wall my arms extend to my ankles and my shoulders have sagged to my hips and I want to forget completely that I still need to return to the grocery store to pick up the bicycle but my trusted memory lapses fail me. The goods stowed and the cats fed, I scale the wall again and begin the march to retrieve my chained vehicle.
First things first they say, so I go to a locksmith to get copies of the spare keys so I have a spare set to loose again and then to the store. The lantern post is still there but not the bicycle. In total disbelieve I look at the spot where I left it, thinking perhaps it shrunk or dissolved in the rain that now has begun or that maybe it has also the ability to cloak itself like some of my tools or David Copperfield was at work. Before I curse him and all the thieves in the world, I take a look around in the pouring rain and notice that I’m in front of the store’s other entrance and so the bicycle may be at the other lantern post. To my relief it is and I safely can assume that Mr. Copperfield is on vacation in some other part of the world.
Now off course the memory kicks in again and I remember the boat. The hutch particularly and the companionway I distinctively remember to have thought about wanting to close it up when I left the boat and my recall tells me without mercy that I forgot to close them. This is the curse of a bad memory that it fails to be reliable. It keeps coming and going at the most inappropriate times like in the parking lot of a grocery store or some other distant place away from the boat and creates the agony one goes through thinking about all that water entering the vessel before one may close the hutches. Funny how I close them after the rain got in. Perhaps to make sure it does not get out again, kind of like reversed psychology?
So memory lapses have their drawbacks also and as for now I am glad to have forgotten what it is good for.