I carry a tiny purse, a cross-body bag, actually. My chiropractor told me to get that heavy bag off my shoulder twenty years ago, and I did. My purses got smaller and smaller until now all that will fit in it is money, credit cards, a lipstick and earplugs. I can’t get anything else in it except a Bed Bath and Beyond coupon that I never seem to use.
So when I go out I have to put my keys in my front jeans pocket, my cell phone in my back jeans pocket, and my glasses into my bra. Once I get to where I am going I can shift these things to the table (in a restaurant), my dancing shoe bag (in a bar), or my picnic bag (at a park).
Whenever I am ready to go home, I end up doing the Macarena, patting my front pocket, back pocket, cleavage, repeat! Front pocket, back pocket, cleavage, repeat! That way I am sure I have gathered up all my stuff.
I might look ridiculous, but at least my shoulders don’t hurt, and my neck is happy.
And don’t get me started on losing my keys. When you drive a Prius, the keys can be anywhere in the car, and the thing will start up. The trick is finding where they fell. There’s no ignition and no key holder anywhere.
Once I came home late, couldn’t find the car keys, couldn’t unlock the front door to my house, and finally turned on the flashlight to my phone to find the keys stuck between the driver’s seat and the console.
All these things that are supposed to be making my life easier are really just messing with my old brain. When my new date handed me his phone number the old school way, on a piece of paper, it was refreshing. No, I’ll call you and you’ll have my number stuff for him. He has a flip phone. He’s a decade further along in life than I am. I get it. Why bother now?
Thank God I have a techie son who can do stuff for me and explain why I am having trouble in the first place.
“Mom, the video is blurry because you compressed it to send it. Why don’t you hook your phone up directly to your laptop?”
But in the end, he had to show me. I wrote down the steps so I can do it next time. There are eight steps. Eight, as in one more than seven. No way my old brain can remember eight steps.
At least I know what a jpeg file is, and I can send attachments and make Track changes. I can upload things to my blog site, Facebook, and Etsy. I can pay bills with Paypal and BillPay. I can edit a post. I can schedule posts for the future.
And I can do the Macarena, 21st century style.
Say it with me, “Front pocket, back pocket, cleavage, repeat!”