And Then A List...

Sad news from the oil patch yesterday and cause for pause for one of those there but for the grace... moments when I think back to the countless hours I’ve spent in all types of helicopter in all kinds of weather with so many ‘Whoa! What was that?’ moments. A sad day.

            

Right, there may well be some out there who can relate to this. Forgetfulness. Thought so. So’s okay there as it’s not the start to an answer. You cool with that? Cool.

Give me ten minutes and I may remember what I was going to type about. My ten minute break won’t be apparent to you though, will it?  If it is, we may well be communicating via a new, as yet unnamed, dimension. Now that would be cool.

Forgetfulness; you know what I mean but this relates to shopping. I’ve never been big on shopping lists and those I’ve made invariably get left on the coffee table as we go out. You know the deal. Get to store, reach in pocket for list, “Damn! Must’ve left list on coffee table.” This has its upside as I can quickly check what we’ve forgotten as soon as we get home.

But as time whooshes past, and the ‘must remember’ bit of my brain gets ever smaller, and me being the owner of a ‘smartphone’ an’ all, I thought, “Shopping list! I bet there’s an app for that!” and decided to embrace technology, or more accurately, tip my head politely in that general direction, and found that there was, indeed, an app for that. An app? Seems there are hundreds of the suckers out there and many of them seem to be aimed more at nuclear physicist's rather than your average Asda shopper looking at their complexity. However, I did eventually find a simple widget lookin’ thingy that fits my humble needs.

A few days later, while trundling round with our trolley, okay, their trolley we were loaning, my little nest of vipers turned and asked, “We got all we want?”
By way of answer I put on my ‘I’m very cleaver’ look and reached into my pocket. Damn! Must’ve left phone on coffee table.

Smiling, I withdrew my empty hand and, with feigned confidence, said. “Yup, we’ve got everything.”
”Can tell by putting hand in pocket?” She asked, looking at me with those piercing, slightly slanty eyes that always seem to be saying, ’You nuts?’
“That I can.” I replied, quickly moving towards the checkouts.

When we got home, sure enough, there was my telling-bone lying on the coffee table exactly where I used to leave shopping lists.

There is an upside to this. The coffee table was ours and not a coffee table in the furniture showroom we’d looked round prior to heading for the supermarket.

Is there a shouty, ‘Yo! Going out? Don’t forget me!’ app?

Quote; Cynthia Nelms.

“If men liked shopping, they'd call it research.”