Duh...

For as long as I can remember, I have suffered from a serious (and apparently incurable) case of what I like to call "Duh Syndrome." I mean, I consider myself to be a relatively intelligent person, but I have moments (more than I would like to admit) that my brain completely shuts down and I do something so stupid that my husband is often left wondering how he wound up with such a "special" wife. As I write this, my poor, long-suffering spouse is driving up and down highway 431, in search of my wallet that I most likely left on top of the car at the grocery store this morning. Yes, I had bags of groceries and a sick child to worry about. And yes, I was also engaged in a conversation with Callie Peak about their three cases of RSV and two bouts of pneumonia this winter. But really, that's no excuse. Duh.

And then there's a month ago when I was checking my cell phone messages in the driveway at Sadie's babysitter's house and backed right over their mailbox, knocking it completely out of the ground and denting the back of our brand new mini-van. Yep, say it with me...Duh.

Our poor Camry, which has been my car for the past three years, has a dent in the front fender from an unknown source (my fault, most likely), a dent and some chipped paint on the rear fender from when I backed into a tree last year, and a missing hubcap from when I pulled up a little too close to the curb. Duh...to the third power.

Essentially, I'm a scatterbrain. I leave things places (luckily, I've never left my children anywhere), I forget stuff that is important, I run into and break things that aren't mine. Though this post is written with tongue in cheek, I don't think it's funny. I spend a fair amount of time beating myself up over this glaring shortcoming in my life. I know we all have them, shortcomings, that is. I just wish this shortcoming was less destructive. What I hate the most is that my "duh" moments create a hassle for others. I hate that my husband had to take time away from work to look for my wallet and though we payed for it, I hate that Sadie's babysitter had to spend time on a Saturday afternoon to replace their broken mailbox. I really hate all the money we have to spend fixing my mistakes. So, if you're reading this and you've been a victim of my "Duh Syndrome," I'm sorry and I'm working on it. In the meantime, i wouldn't recommend loaning me your car.