Sometimes I feel like a stand-up comedian, looking for material to bring a smile to someone’s face, until I realize I am the material.

While asking him about the recent quandaries we’ve been laughing over, such as constantly looking for each other’s readers so we can read the iPhone or forgetting what we’re talking about mid-conversation, I had my idea for the column this week, as long as I could get it written before I forgot.

I suppose it’s not a laughing matter, as far as getting older and losing brain cells, but by golly, if it’s going to happen, at least I can share it with someone who doesn’t give me a strange look when I say, “wait a second, I’ve lost my train of thought” as though it’s an everyday occurrence.

Just tonight, while trying to figure out what I was doing, and talking to myself, he hollered from the other room, “when you get done having a conversation with yourself, let me know and I’ll join in.” It made me laugh and really, that’s all you can do at this stage of the game. 

I used to worry about becoming forgetful, with dad’s dementia looming over me, as if I could do anything about it if I were to develop the disease. I’ve come to terms with the fact it may or may not happen, and if it does, I’ll just keep a running notebook of what to do and who everyone is, like I did for him during those last years of his battle with memory. Sometimes I feel like I’ve already started, as my lists seem to be getting bigger by the day.

With post-it notes on my desk and computer, a list in the office, a list in the kitchen, a list on my iPhone and a list in my purse, it’s a wonder I get anything accomplished. What’s really amazing is I never seem to mark anything off as if I never get anything done. Instead I flip the page and start a whole new list of lists.

The kids look at the calendar in their iPhone and can tell you their availability for family functions in an instant. It does seem convenient to have information at your fingertips, since we can’t seem to go anywhere without our cell phones. The only problem is, if I can’t find one of my readers to see the iPhone, I still won’t know what I’m doing on any given day.

The calendar I use is desk size, hanging on the wall in the office, keeping track of where I need to be and what I’m doing. Unless I’m sitting in that chair, next to that calendar, don’t ask me what I’m doing a week from Monday because I’ll only be able to muster up the blank stare which typically comes when trying hard to remember.

“What’s the date,“ he asked while starting to fill out a form for the insurance company. “I’ve no clue,” I answered and we both just laughed and laughed.

The joke will eventually be on our kids, as we become the punchline.

Sandy Turner is a GateHouse Media columnist.