It’s amazing what you can forget in a year.
In 364 days (or 365 if the calendar’s feeling frisky), we let the most important things slip from our minds. We’ll forget about anniversaries, birthdays, scheduled meetings, and the date daylights savings start (although that’s not much of a problem in Saskatchewan since it’s a sensible province).
We let these moment fade from our minds and then we act surprised when they sneak up on us. Who hasn’t scrambled for a last-minute birthday gift at a mall right before it closes? Who hasn’t asked their partner where they’re eating for their anniversary, only to receive a blank stare? Who hasn’t gotten yelled at for coming into work late after failing to spring their clock forward? (Altough, again, not in Saskatchewan because, as I said, it is a sensible place).
And what do we do after these dates pass by? We promise to never forget them. We swear we’ll jot down everyone’s birthday in a journal. We take an oath that we won’t miss another anniversary. We delude ourselves into thinking we won’t make the same mistakes we always make.
Then, 363 days roll by and we’re shocked, simply SHOCKED, when someone’s birthday just appears out of nowhere. Then we make the same promise and repeat the same mistake. Time is a flat circle.
I’m as guilty as anyone of this absentmindedness curse. I’ve let family members’ birthdays slip from my brain. I’ve bolted to work after failing to adjust the clock’s time. I’ve let countless dates fall from my memory bank.
Around this time of year, I’m reminded of one inescapable fact I always try to forget and deny: Everyone gets a cold.
It’s as inevitable as the heat death of the universe or Kanye West embarassing himself. Catching a cold cannot be avoided. No matter how hard you fight, you’re getting a runny nose and a headache
At the start of this winter, I convinced myself, as I always do, that this year would be different. I was in a different climate, I wasn’t living in a congested, germ-filled city, and I was taking great care to eat oranges every day. All that citrus would surely protect me from my ancient adversary. I allowed myself to forget the stone-cold fact of life.
But fate would not be denied. This past weekend, in between taking photos of hockey games, craft shows, and Robbie Burns night, I let my defenses down. My body got tired and lowered its shields. And my cold nemesis waltzed in and took up residence in my nasal cavity.
So now I’m sitting at my computer with a stuffy nose and a dreaful cough. I’ve been reminded, yet again, that no one escapes winter without a cold. It’s something I surely won’t forget.
Until next year, of course.
