Did you ever wake up, climb out of bed, progress with the day and find that you left part of your mind behind?
I’m here; I’m awake; I can even use a semicolon when writing.
From the outside you would never know – I can still touch my nose with my tongue – but part of me is missing. Aspects of my reasoning powers have not accompanied me into the waking world today.
I can see the dots; I can even see the numbers next to the dots; but I’m not joining them all together.
How do I know this?
When Maggie wrote the shopping list this morning she said she was going to write a subliminal message on the bottom of the paper. There was something she wanted me to buy her, but not realise I was buying it in case I disapproved. Sure enough, at the bottom of the list was the word CHOCOLATE taking up possibly half the strip of paper.
We laughed, and she said she was joking; I was not to buy any chocolate.
But something wasn’t quite right. Something was nagging me at the back of my mind, but the connection was fuzzy. Wary that I might be missing something, I asked if she was really joking. She confirmed that she was positive: I was not to buy her any chocolate.
Just before I dropped her off in town and went to the supermarket, I asked her one last time. I told her I really needed a definitive answer, because I suspected my second-guessing skills weren’t working properly. Did she really want me to not buy chocolate? Absolutely certain.
OK, I had my answer.
And I acted on it.
I didn’t buy any chocolate.
I bet there’s not a single person reading this who doesn’t know I made the wrong decision.
Pah. Brains. They’re only any use when they work properly.