What day is it?

I don't know why but at lest three times today I have asked different people "what day is it?"  As though a day has been lost.  Or even something strange has happened with time.  There are days when the demands are high, where meetings, phone calls, conversations, items of work don't stop.  Where even the day before was heavy and it is still waiting to be swept under the carpet, because for now there it sits on top of a desk, spilling over with little room for pens, pencil, phone or diary.  Yesterday is waiting even with today being here now and also needing to be dealt with.  As today progresses there are then demands of it's very own, demands which come right up to your face and slap you in the face, they say "give me attention now, I don't care what you were doing, I am now, deal with me."  This could be the reason why "what is today?" Has to be asked.  It is like looking at a map and establishing where you are in order to get to your destination.  However, in today's case I couldn't place today on the map yet knew it had to be somewhere, some place and importantly at some time.  It isn't Tuesday, it isn't Thursday.  Today is Wednesday, it is mid-week, but more so it is the slope downwards to the weekend, to two days of rest. Hopefully.  And today is nearly over as well.  It's odd, but I have also spoken to Sparkling and she has been in the same dilemma as I have, also asking the same question.

Sparkling however has not been sleeping well the last couple of nights.  She had to be at the docs to get a sample of blood taken from a vampire for analysis.  It meant having to rise early and be prepared.  Which could of been on her mind and prevented her from sleeping as soundly.  I asked if she knew what time she woke up, but Sparkles told me it was an all night kind of restlessness.  I woke up at 3 a.m., I know because I checked my alarm and wondered when I woke up whether I still had more time to sleep until 6 a.m., there was plenty but again I felt cheated of sleep on the second wakening.  So this is the second factor which has played a role.  A role in orientation.

Now as the day finishes, I hang up my gun slinger's belt, take off my spurs and at last can relax.  Sparkling is making soup, lentil, she says it relaxes her, and Rock will be given a portion.  Rock is pregnant and has the boke, but may find the soup does the trick.  It's like ginger nut biscuits which apparently are also a good thing to eat if you're pregnant and tending to heave an at the slightest thing.  It's Wednesday today and shortly it will be Thursday, all is well, this ship is sailing through a mist, a fuzzy mist, but the gentle glow of a light, and an intermittent bell ring tells me.  All is well, all is clear, tomorrow is another day and will not need to be caught up with.  Not yet anyway.

Am I forgetting things or is it dementia?

Do I seriously ask myself if I am suffering from a mental illness?  Well, not seriously, it's something I am more aware of each day.  I'm forgetting things.  All kinds of things.  People's names, words, places, they go missing, it's like they are there but I can't put my finger on them.  Very much the-tip-of-the-tongue phenomena.  For example, today while sitting on the sofa Sparkling's next door neighbour came in to wish Sparkles a happy birthday, she sat on the other end of the sofa.  The conversation between Sparkling and neighbour went on, in the meantime I had somehow forgotten the neighbour's name.  I knew her husband's name but I'd forgotten her name.  It was completely gone.  I sat there racking my brains but it was not coming out of them.  Where had I put the name?  What room of my memory palace was not working?  I don't know, but whatever room it was in the door was locked.  I was trying to peek through the keyhole but it would not reveal itself.  Another example is with words.  When watching a film I two soldiers in an army decided to leave the army, they grabbed horses and rode off.  They were 'vacting' the army, or was it 'absconding' from the army.  Both of my alternative words were closeish approximations but were not the exact word I was looking for.  I could describe the definition of the word, I even had an idea of what letter it began with but the missing word was missing.  Which is errrm.  I forgotten again.  No, it's 'deserters' see I knew it but just could not put my finger on it again, even though I have heard the word a couple of times since.  So, by imagining myself back into the forgotten state of mind, I really did get back into the same forgotten state.  The words were there, I just couldn't pull them out.  So I am wondering if I am a candidate of dementia, or not. 

I discussed this with Sparkling.  Her response was to nod her head and agree, then to go on and add some more to it.  She seemed to think I was talking a lot of rubbish lately and so this must be one of the symptoms as well.  My digressive discussions on subjects which mean little to Sparkling except for 'getting on her nerves' are confirmation to her that I am nuts.  This is completely untrue by the way, I enjoy my right to freedom of speech and talking rubbish to Sparkling because when in her company which isn't everyday I have to make up for it.  It's a way of keeping contact, trying to be on the same wave length, unfortunately whatever wave length I am on Sparkling doesn't quite appreciate it.  It wouldn't of been so bad if this was the view of one person.  Rock Chick made a similar comment in relation to this possible self diagnoses Alzheimer's.  Rock said:

"maybe because you have got so much shit in your head, you have to forget some of that shit so more shit can go inside."  This was like an Epiphany when she said it.  I jumped up, a light had been switched on, yes you're right I said.  It just seemed right.  Then I wondered and answered,
 "Hey, I don't have a lot of shit in my head, it's all useful stuff the lot of it, just some of it is being forgotten."  Rock laughed she had managed to tongue tie me quite easily.  I had been fooled.  I have no doubt though, I am getting slower, the brain cells are not reacting in the way they should be.  Sparkling thinks so.  Being this is her last year of her forties, she has said she will have a mid-life crisis.  Except she has some kind of crisis every year.  They are lovely crisis.  Sometimes they maybe about starting a new life in a field with cows and chickens and sheep.  As well as wanting a younger man, Michael Buble is high on the listing.  What man can compete with him?  None, none in their right mind.  Being I may not be in my right mind then maybe I can. 

I don't know what is going on with my mind, I could start wearing a white handkerchief on my head with knots in each corner for the things I've forgotten.  Except four knots wouldn't go very far and I'm sure then Mr Buble would look even better.