Everyone who knows me knows that I have no concept of time. There are still occasions when I will unconsciously date a check '1989'.
I can offer no explanation. It's not like 1989 was a good year or anything like that .
So yesterday as I am sitting at my Mac.
From behind me I hear my son say:
-in his most exasperated tone-
I turned around to look at him. In his cupped hands are my timers.
He goes on to say:
"Is this really necessary"?
Then he says:
-in his sarcastic tone-
"Maybe you need to go buy another timer"?
I say: " I have a perfectly logical explanation for that".
He stares at me while waiting for my explanation with a -my mother is crazy- look on his face.
I say: as I give him my -how can you not know this?- look.
"When I am cooking more than one dish at a time I need a timer for each dish or I will forget that I have something in the oven until sometime next week!"
Without a word, not even a sigh, he turned around and walked back into the kitchen.
I heard the ding, ding, ding and ding, as he sat timers back on the counter one at a time.
I think he's just given up.