"I'm not confused, I'm just well mixed." ~Robert Frost

I am becoming addled.
I have witnesses.


#1  T, my cleaner person came last Wednesday. The day of her previous visit, two weeks prior, she had phoned to say that the check I had left for her was written for more than I owed her. 
"Reeeeeally?" I asked. "Okay, just keep that and I'll pay you the difference next time." 
Last Tuesday evening and I wrote the check for the difference, put the check in an envelope marked "T," sealed the envelope, and threaded the sealed envelope containing the check through the loop of the paper towel holder that sits on the counter.  (...that lay in the house that Jack built.)
When I got home Wednesday afternoon, T's envelope, with the check atop it, lay on the clean kitchen counter. I  immediately thought, "She must have left it because she forgot that I overpaid her. She must have thought I was shorting her!" I imagined T in high dudgeon, offended that I would pay her less than I owed her with no explanation. With all that circling in my mind, I worked up my courage and phoned her. 
"Hi T, it's June. You left your check. Did I misunderstand?"
"Yesss, June. Remember you overpaid me? So you didn't owe me anything this time."
"But don't I normally pay you $1xx.00? ...and I wrote that check two weeks ago for $2xx.00?"
"Noooo, June. You pay me  $xx.00, and last time your check was for $1xx.00, so you owed me nothing this time, and next time you'll only owe me $xx.00. And then we'll be straightened out."
"Ohhhh...." I said.


#2  Relieved to know that all was in order with T, I hung up and opened the refrigerator to see that Husband, who would be away overnight, had used the last of the milk. I phoned him to ask if he'd arrived at his destination yet. He hadn't, he told me; he was still fifty miles from the end of his trip. 
"And oh, by the way," I said, "I can't believe you used the last of the milk and didn't tell me so I could buy some on the way home."
"I did?" he asked, shocked. "I don't remember doing that."
"Well, there's an empty jug in the trash and there's no milk on the shelf in the refrigerator."  
It suddenly occurred to me that sometimes Husband, operating in Husband Manner, puts the jug of milk in the shelf on the inside of the fridge door, where the jug of water lives, instead of on the shelf where the jug of milk habitually resides.  Phone carrying Husband's voice still to my head, I opened the refrigerator again. There was the milk jug in the shelf on the door.
"Ohhhh," I sighed to him in relief, "There it is!"


#3  As I've mentioned here before, both dogs get daily medication. Thyroid med for Angus, heart med for Max. I seem to run out of Max's pills far more often than I do Angus' pills, so I wasn't surprised that I had come to the bottom of Max's pill bottle in what seemed like a very short time. On Thursday I went to work and when the vet's office opened, I called to tell S, the receptionist, that I needed more Max Pills.
"June, I know. They're right here. You already called."
"I did?"
"Yes," said S, chuckling. "You called on the . . . (checking her records) . . . fourth of the month."
"I did?"  I was nearly speechless. "Did I pick them up?"
"No, they're still right here."
We were both giggling by this time, she in amusement, I in near-hysteria, thinking, "What is happening to my mind?!?!"


I remembered, then, having gone to the office to pick up the phoned-for Max Pills, and having to wait a few minutes for them to be prepared, which I thought very unusual. Normally, the meds are waiting right at the receptionist's counter and it's an in-and-out stop. After my first call, I must have arrived in the window of time between the request being sent to the back and the prescription having made its way to the front counter.  And now the originally-requested prescription was waiting for me. 


On that last one, that #3 there, that's my story. 
And I'm sticking to it.