Have I Got a Deal for You!

If a scientist could figure out a way to take a picture of the actual bits of information stored in my brain, the photo would be featured on the next particularly horrifying episode of Hoarders.

Those of you who know me might wonder if I am overestimating the amount of paraphernalia in my brain; many people assume there is nothing in there. But I assure you that this girl’s noggin is packed full of information.  It’s just that most of it is completely useless to me.  Or to anyone else, for that matter.

Actually, that may not be true.  I mean, have you seen the useless things that people will buy off of eBay?  If you can auction off a dictator, why not a worthless memory?  One man’s trash, etc…

If Craig’s list had a category for worthless memories, you can bet I would be listing some things on it.  Anyone want to buy the phone number from my first house?  That one still sits on top of a pile in my brain.  How about the name of my first grade teacher?    Or the type of cigarettes my dad used to smoke before he quit over 20 years ago?  Why are these so easy to reach when I have to dig through rooms stacked with detritus to find my driver’s license number?

I’ve tried recycling them.  Turning them into passwords or tossing them into stories I’m writing.  When I tried to name our daughter after my first grade teacher so I wouldn’t have a new name to remember, my husband put his foot down.  Inexplicably, I can now remember the name of our daughter’s first grade teacher, 3 years later, but my daughter still gets called by the dog’s name on a regular basis.

I don’t have to sell these junk recollections.  I’d be fine with setting them on the porch for Goodwill to pick up.  Or paying for a storage unit for my memories in The Cloud.

But, since there seems to be no “approved” disposal site, I’m considering throwing some money under the table for someone to pack all of that trash away to an illegal dumping ground.

Or lighting a match and collecting the insurance.

Anyone looking for some extra cash?

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Posted on August 29, 2011, in Aging, Annoyances, Humor, Memory Loss and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 15 Comments.

  1. How much do you want for them? I can buy the lot, sift through the ones I might find useful and then just sell on the rest myself….

  2. You are so funny, but we love you for being just you, even with your brain full of rubbish.

    I would offer to take it off your hands but I too have a full brain in fact so full of garbage that there is very little room for anything sensible to stay around for long.

    Sell you brain on E Bay..someone would buy it

  3. I still remember my phone number from the very first house we lived in, our address…actually every single address I ever lived at. I’m a walking calculator on remember numbers, but ask me the name of the guy who I just met an hour ago, and you’ll hear crickets in the background. Hysterical stuff!

  4. I can totally relate 🙂 I never thought about selling it off on eBay, though. That’s pure genius. I’m thinking that you and I must be long lost secret sibling soulmates or something, though, because I feel exactly the same way!

    http://blackholeundermycouch.com/2011/04/21/mind-games/

  5. Terrific post. I wish there were a Jeopardy week for people who can’t forget their own useless personal stuff. “Alex, What is a three-tiered crinoline half-slip?”

  6. I lose my mug full of coffee each morning. I end up wandering from room to room in search of it like a dog who lost his bone. But, I can happily name every boy I ever kissed. Impressive, huh? 😉

    Great post.

  7. harperfaulkner

    Nice stuff. Well written. Very true. I have the same type of memory. I can’t forget a thing. Anyway, I commented to tell you nice stuff, well written and very true. I have the same type of memory.

  8. Kay at Blue Speckled Pup

    This really sounds familiar to me, and the photo of a sea of rubble in the living room made me giggle. My poor sweetie is frequently astounded by how many trivial things I can remember, like what I ordered at a restaurant six years ago. I try to tell him it’s a bad thing, because the stuff I need to remember, like the name of that girl who sits in the back of the third column of my grade eleven class. I know what side her nose stud is on, but not her name. Sigh.

    I’m glad I’m not the only one drowning in useless stuff. Sadly, I don’t think the insurance company would pay much for the crap I remember.

    Thanks for making me grin this morning.

  9. I haven’t called my children by their correct names (on the first try anyway) in a long, long time. And someone has to remember the plots of every Bosum Buddies episode. If not me, then who?

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