Weird signs of getting older

Have you ever had one of those days where you wonder, “How am I still alive?”

Not because something insanely dangerous happened but more because you’ve done something low-key, so dumb you’re surprised you haven’t managed to somehow drown in you own saliva? Yeah, me too.

I know we’ve all had those moments. Looking for our phone while talking on it. Searching for the reading glasses on top of our own head. Good times.

I recently had a couple of incidents that truly made me question my ability to continue functioning as an adult.

Several weeks ago, I realized I couldn’t find some important documents at home — my birth certificate, Social Security card and passport. For the better part of 20 years, I’ve kept them together in a specific desk drawer. Those are the things you want to be able to easily grab during an emergency.

In hindsight, this might have been the first incident. They weren’t in the drawer anymore. I searched high and low and middle, looking in every place I could imagine putting them for safe keeping. I even looked in places I absolutely wouldn’t put important items.

After questioning my sanity, I decided the better part of valor was to give up the search and replace the documents. I started with my birth certificate, since that seemed the easiest one to get. Sure enough, Missouri Vital Records had a form that I needed to download, print and mail. I also needed to send them a self-addressed, stamped envelope, which triggered some very specific sixth-grade memories of sending off for questionable items advertised in the back of magazines.

Despite the very analogue process, there wasn’t much to it. The hardest thing was getting it notarized. To make sure I did that expeditiously, I put the form in my car so I’d remember to do it while out and about.

I stared at that form on my passenger seat for two weeks before I finally committed. I needed to drop something off at the post office last Wednesday, so I took it with me, thinking I could kill two birds with one stone. Unfortunately, that’s a service the USPS doesn’t offer, so I headed to the bank.

Before I went in, I looked over the form one more time to make sure everything was complete before I made it super official. And there it was. The notary’s stamp. I sat and stared at it for way too long. When did I do that? A vague memory of a nice man at the bank surfaced but there was no clear memory of the experience. Interesting.

I mean, good on me for getting it done but I carried that piece of paper around for weeks, convinced I still needed to fulfill my mission.

I decided to let that go, too. I mean, what was I going to do about it? I managed to get the form, a check and a SASE in the mail, so I’m assuming I’ll get my birth certificate at some point.

With that arduous task behind me, I went on with life, even managing to get to my dentist appointment last week. As I sat in the office waiting to check out, I happened to look out the window. As I zoned out a bit my gaze lingered on my car.

Something seemed off. A weird shape and color on the roof rack. Was it broken? Was something coming off the car? Did something fall on my car? What was it?

As I stared and contemplated, wondering what the bright red and black thing was on the roof of my car, it hit me. The night before I had cleaned out my car, including taking out one of those big packing tape dispensers. (Why that was in my car is another whole explanation. Don’t ask.)

Apparently, I’d managed to take it out of the car and set it on the roof, but didn’t take it in the house. It survived the drive into work and then from the office to the dentist. Just chilling up there, right above my rear passenger side door. And you know the super fun thing? When I go out to get in the car every morning, guess which side I’m looking at? Go ahead, guess.

I have no idea what any of that was about. Yeah, I’m heading for 51, so maybe I’m officially over the hill? I don’t remember a hill, but it certainly feels like I’m on the other side, heading down with no airbags.