I remember everything

I remember everything. Or at least I think I do. Like I remember the time I lost my phone then went around asking the children to call me, turned the whole house upside down only to find it ringing grumpily in my wardrobe from deep under beneath my clothes where I’d left it.

Or the time I couldn’t find the remote until in complete frustration I switched off the television picking up my book only to find the remote wedged between its pages where I had used it to mark my place, like a bookmark. (Reading is good, it helps you find lost stuff).

I remember everything like the time I tried to boil an egg in the microwave. It burst off course, splattering water everywhere to the great puzzlement of the repairman who kept asking us, ‘But how did you get water so deep into the machinery?’

Yes, I remember everything like the time four-year-old H who had been pestering us for pineapple juice finally spotted said fruit at a juice stand and decided to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. He grabbed the massive fruit off the stand and made away with it, with the vendor behind him and me behind the vendor struggling to bring the situation under control.

Or the time when N, all of two, tried to make away with sitting stool from a shoe shop, threatening violence when the hapless salesman tried to stop her.

My children were true blue bandits. You see the work I have had to put in to turn them into humans?

But, that’s another story. So where was I?

Yeah, I was saying I remember everything. Well, maybe not everything, but definitely the important stuff, like the time I misspelt ‘recipe’ as ‘reciepe’ in the women’s magazine I was editing and it got printed on thousands and thousands of copies. Embarrassment multiplied multifold and saved up in the archives for posterity.

Or like the time as a clueless cub reporter I asked my editor sitting across the newsroom ‘What does so**my mean?’ and, keeping her expression inscrutable, she had replied sternly ‘Look it up’. Let me remind you dear reader that those were pre-internet days and young people were way less informed than the youth of today.

I do remember everything like the time I tried to send a congratulatory text to a newly married friend who had moved into his newly bought house with his very new wife. Only, instead while writing ‘Congratulations for your house’, I missed the ‘y’ from ‘your’. Damn those typos they could have turned a ‘happily married’ to a ‘was happily married’.

If you’re a regular reader you might have stumbled across some of these ‘accidents’ earlier.

Seriously, why is it that my memory functions like a finely tuned machine when it comes to remembering the cringiest, most forgettable moments of my life? 

Tell me.

i’m writing at the BAR for the prompt ‘I remember everything’.

4 Replies to “I remember everything”

  1. What a fun post!
    I have learned today never to try boiling an egg in the microwave 😀

  2. I know, right!!!
    But first, this was such an amusing, entertaining post, Tulika! I could imagine H and N and their antics and you pulling your hair out or embarassed as you tried covering up for them.
    Now, about remembering cringe-worthy moments from my life, well, I can go back to when I was in primary school and remember moments I want to wipe clean from my memory. You know, there are times I can’t remember the very important thing hubby told me the day before, but I can remember what my father said 40 years ago and it sends me spiralling down the cringe hole. Why does this happen? Is it some evil game our memory plays for entertainment, or what??

    1. That’s exactly what happens to me too. The head is filled with things that happened ages ago and a ton of useless trivia and yet I cannot remember what I came into the room for or why I opened the refrigerator.

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