Could this be dementia?

First, a word to my son. I'm sorry you were traumatized by the thought of me cooing sweet nothings to your dad while also being a mummy in the bathtub. I'll send you therapy money along with that USU alumni magazine that's sitting on the table in the hallway.

And now a word about the state of my brain. We came up here to Deer Valley for the retreat on Thursday night. Naturally we brought suitcases. Heavy ones. But do you know that somehow I only managed to pack basically ONE OUTFIT? So I am dashing around day after day in the same black Nike dri-fit pants.

On the other hand, I did manage to pack five pairs of shoes, because you know how it is. Maybe you'll want to wear running shoes with those Nike pants. Or flip-flops. Or possibly that pair of Keenes you wore all over France last summer (your dad has the exact same pair). Or maybe you'll want to wear elegant little black flats you bought at Tar-jay one day whilst you were feeling fancy. OR MAYBE YOU'LL EVEN WANT TO WEAR BROWN CLOGS WITH THOSE BLACK NIKE DRI-FIT PANTS because nothing says, "Dude I am a freaking rock star" like a pair of brown clogs.

Worn, of course, with Nike dri-fit.