Enter New Information...Exit Old

I have come to the conclusion that my brain has reached maximum capacity. Any additional information that it receives will cause it to dispose of what it deems as useless old information. How do I know? Read on.

This week I have been helping my friend Jen who recently purchased a new home. We have been painting her walls. The day before yesterday, while we were there the Post Office came by to drop off her new mail key. On our way home we stopped by her mailbox to check to see if she had any mail yet.

If you don't know, most newer houses here have these neighborhood mailboxes, where all the boxes for the entire neighborhood are clustered together in a big beehive type thing. When you move in you are assigned a number and given a key. They don't put the addresses on the actual box fronts (I guess for security purposes, or something...).

They told her that her mailbox number was B-6. It wasn't. The key would not even go in the keyhole for B-6. So we stood out there in the 110 degree heat and tried every single mailbox. It ends up it was C-6. Problem solved. It only took about 10 minutes (did I mention it was 110 degrees...).

Okay, fast forward to today. I go out to do my weekly (ok monthly...) mail gathering. Now, keep in mind we have lived in this house (and had the same mailbox) for over a year. All of a sudden I could NOT remember what our mailbox number was. I racked my brain, but the information was not there! For the life of me, the only thing I could remember was B-6 and C-6. Neither of those are our mailboxes. So, for the second time in a week I stood out in the 110 degree heat and tried every stinking mailbox.

About halfway through the process I began to worry that if someone were to come along I might get arrested for mail tampering. What kind of a crazy/mentally challenged person stands out in the heat testing their key in each and every mailbox?! I didn't even have the excuse of being new to the neighborhood!

About 5 minutes and 20 mailboxes later, I started to get desperate. I began to forget which mailboxes I had already tried. I thought about calling Dan, but immediately dismissed that idea, remembering that he is the person who routinely asks me for our address and/or zip code.
Finally, just when I was ready to give up and go back inside, my key turned. Success! I looked around sheepishly, grabbed my mail, and made a quick b-line for the house.

I am glad I have my mail, but now I'm afraid to absorb any new information. I will have to relegate myself to watching VH1 and reading the Arizona Republic!! I can't afford to learn anything new. I might forget my bra size or the roads I take to get to work!!
It's tough getting old. :(


**Incidentally, later on when I relayed my harrowing experience to Dan he said "You couldn't remember our mailbox number?! That's easy: B-11."
Go figure...