TeacherScribe

Absent minded. That's me. I'm reminded of a time years ago when I was baling hay with Dad.  We spent an entire afternoon bailing alfalfa. We would fill a trailer, haul it over to our hayshed, and turn on the bale elevator. Then I would begin setting bales on the elevator while Dad would climb up into the hay shed and stack the bales I sent him.   Finally, toward dusk, we had the last trailer loaded.  All I had to do was drive it over the elevator, unload it, and we'd blessed done!  Well, it was a jaunt from the field to the hay shed.  Dad was on the hay rack while I drove the 730 (one of the rare times he let me drive.  Usually, I got stuck stacking the bales and riding on the trailer).  Naturally, with some free time, I let my mind wander. I was off somewhere else when I managed to maneuver the tractor next to the bale elevator.  But for some reason I neglected to stop.  I was just putzing along, totally oblivious to the task at hand. Finally, I thought, huh, I should probably stop.  I've pulled way past the elevator and hay shed.  I turned around, wondering why Dad hadn't yelled to break me out of my daze.  That was when I saw that Dad had already hopped off the tractor - a good 75 yards ago -and unhooked the trailer while I just putzed along in second gear.  I looked back at Dad, who held the trailer hitch in his hand with his hat cocked back on his head, which was shaking in amusement at my absent mindedness. Well, I have never really changed. You don't know how much time I spend looking for copies I've made before class that I set down when I walked into my room and then forgot where I set them.  Or the bottles of pop I've purchased and left around the school when I stopped to talk to someone or check my mail.  Or the time spent searching for my keys or checkbook at home. Yesterday was a microcosm of my absent mindedness. Actually, it began the night before.  Kristie had me grab a little broom and tray (whatever it is that attaches to the small hand held broom and is used to store what you sweep up).  I was supposed to sweep up some paint chips lying in a pile on the front steps that Kristie had scraped off earlier in the afternoon.  I remember grabbing the broom and tray.  I remember putting them both away.  I just forgot to sweep up the paint scrapings.  Sure enough, when I opened the door, there was a large pile of debris that was impossible to miss.  Yet, somehow I managed to miss it. Next, I was supposed to take some bills to school so I could call and inquire about a few details during my prep.  Yet, what did I leave right on the kitchen table? Then, when I got home I had to take off to Gail's to pick up our patio furniture.  Kristie told me to be sure to set a rug and a plastic liner that Gail left behind when she moved out in the back of Casey's truck.  That way I could take them back to Gail's when I got the furniture.  Yet, what did I totally forget to grab when I left?   After that, I got a phone message from Kristie stating that I had blanked out something else.  We had this large box that we used to store our excess cardboard in over the winter.  I had taken the cardboard to the recycling center the day before.  However, the bottom of the box was full of paper and magazines.  Some of the papers were old bills and so forth, so the information was private.  I intended to sort through all that and then burn it when I brought our fire pit back from Gail's.  Yet, Kristie's message informed me that not only did the garbage men dump the large garbage container we had rented for cleaning out our garage and basement, but they had also taken the large box full of papers! I think I must have set some kind of record yesterday.  Somewhere my dad is looking down with his hat cocked back on his head, which he is shaking emphatically, while he is saying in his slow southern drawn, "Kris, I know exactly how you feel!"