Scattered

He's an incredibly scatterbrained man.

It is the little things. We are halfway to our destination, going to look at a camera he found for sale on Craig's List, before he realizes that has left both his cell phone and his wallet at home. One time we are halfway to Iowa before he realizes that, once again, he has left his wallet at home. Another time, we are taking a friend to the airport before heading to a baseball game and we are driving away before I think to ask him if he has the tickets. Of course not. They are sitting on the dining room table.

I left a note for him on the table, asking him to take out the trash. He did exactly as asked, of course, taking out the trash, but leaving the lid off the trash can and no replacement liners in the cans. When I get home, the cat is adorably sitting on the trash can lid staring at me as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

He is not doing it to be mean or insensitive, but he is just so absent minded. It's an adorably aggravating trait he possesses and every incident forces me to wonder, yet again, how the man survived living by himself without his nagging loving wife. Who remembered to buy the toilet paper and make sure there was soap in the dispenser in both the kitchen AND the bathroom? Who did the checklist before he left the house?

It gets worse with each passing week, it seems. He has taken on the label of absent minded professor several decades before most professors seem to be okay with the label.

It doesn't matter, though. He is my love, my life, and I will accept this quirk of his as I accept all others. With amusement, laughter, and a great deal of tolerance for backtracking.