Here’s a story I wrote in when I was 48. Now I'm 63 and, unfortunately, no better!
I read in the paper, in three different articles, that they have come up with a drug to enlarge brain cells, one to shrink prostate glands, and one to make cholesterol disappear. Gee, I hope they don’t mix them up.
The one about the brain cells was supposed to help the memory of us aging mice. How in the world do they know if a mouse’s memory improves? Do they ask him what day it is, and who the president is?
The mice who made a nest in our air conditioner compressor had good memories – good enough to scurry back to the nest hundreds of times to build a big mess! They chewed through wires and fuses, shorted out a capacitor and coil, and made the transformer burn out. I guess their memories were impaired after that!
Being a mouse myself, I shouldn’t be so hard on the little guys. Especially when their memory goes. Mine is already going. Last week I saw a note on my calendar (in my own handwriting) that said “Wednesday, 11:30, Eye doctor.” I knew I did not have an appointment yet because I distinctly remembered they had said they would wait and call me for an appointment when my contacts came in. I figured this must be an appointment I had made for my husband. However, I did call my eye doctor to ask when the contacts were coming in, only to learn that the contacts had come, they had called me, and I had made the appointment. The gal on the phone laughed, “Your memory’s good. It’s just short!”
So if there’s a memory drug for aged mice, maybe I can apply for it – if I remember to.
I read in the paper, in three different articles, that they have come up with a drug to enlarge brain cells, one to shrink prostate glands, and one to make cholesterol disappear. Gee, I hope they don’t mix them up.
The one about the brain cells was supposed to help the memory of us aging mice. How in the world do they know if a mouse’s memory improves? Do they ask him what day it is, and who the president is?
The mice who made a nest in our air conditioner compressor had good memories – good enough to scurry back to the nest hundreds of times to build a big mess! They chewed through wires and fuses, shorted out a capacitor and coil, and made the transformer burn out. I guess their memories were impaired after that!
Being a mouse myself, I shouldn’t be so hard on the little guys. Especially when their memory goes. Mine is already going. Last week I saw a note on my calendar (in my own handwriting) that said “Wednesday, 11:30, Eye doctor.” I knew I did not have an appointment yet because I distinctly remembered they had said they would wait and call me for an appointment when my contacts came in. I figured this must be an appointment I had made for my husband. However, I did call my eye doctor to ask when the contacts were coming in, only to learn that the contacts had come, they had called me, and I had made the appointment. The gal on the phone laughed, “Your memory’s good. It’s just short!”
So if there’s a memory drug for aged mice, maybe I can apply for it – if I remember to.
No comments:
Post a Comment