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the forgetful sandwich

As I have gotten older, I have become more dependent on jotting down to-do lists more so than keeping track of them in my head. Although the weeks stay somewhat consistent revolving around a full-time job and getting a good night’s rest, the tasks outside the routine of running errands, doing chores, and keeping each day stabilized requires me to write down anything I may forget.

Little things like what few things I need from the grocery store, a movie I should check out, and/or something I want to look up online is listed off in ink on a tangible notepad. I keep a few lying around, and in the recurrence where I forget to keep one in my car or leave it at home, the notes may find themselves on a stray receipt or scribbled in the palm of my hand.

I often wash my hands after exposing them to the grime of the outside world and accidentally dilute the one- or two-word memos that I might have written in my palm to my disappointment and send them into the void after an bothersome session of deciphering my esoteric cipher. After a mental sigh, I realize it’s just an essential factor that makes me human.

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