I am burning things. The other night I forgot about the pulled pork I was heating in the oven and it blackened into pork jerky. The dogs are very fond of it. That same night, I left the bread (which was just buttered leftover hot dog buns) on the griddle until we had almost finished eating. They looked like oblong pucks.

Yesterday, I left a big container of Greek yogurt out on the counter in the afternoon sun after lunch. I didn’t notice it for 5 hours.

I am not an absent-minded cook. Everything doesn’t always turn out the way I intended, but I don’t burn things, forget to refrigerate.

Joe says I am quieter. I feel this when I talk with friends as well — as if my words are used up and I can only listen, nod, provide vague but heartfelt encouragement. I am distracted, I guess, by the words in my head.

No one seems to mind, so far.


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