Memory

My house is in turmoil. And I don't like it. I can live with the clutter, but this is outrageous. I so do not like home improvements, not because I do any myself, but because I have to remove my precious clutter for a while, then I will forget where I stacked them, then I get irritated, I start acting horrible and piss myself off. But I cleared the last piece of evidence there ever was. I didn't even know I had evidence. Funny, this brain of mine doesn't work very well sometimes. Somehow the part storing my memory plays funny tricks. Perhaps it's stored too many things and the fuse has been blown off or something. I guess I need to go to memory classes. I simply forget. But I remember my childhood in every detail, in colour too. I remember dreams, especially the scary ones. I remember all the things I learnt about life, especially the not so nice ones, but I forget about the good ones. And I forget what I store. Which is sad, because even a chipmunk remembers where it's stored it's food. I wonder what this is called, early Alzheimer's? Sometimes I think that perhaps I am one of the best contributors to the retail business. I buy something, forget all about it, see it again, buy it again, forget again and buy it all over again. Seriously, I do just that. Maybe I just need a transplant.