Blinded

I can sometimes behave as if I haven’t a single functioning brain cell

Mar 30, 2026

It was a very busy weekend, and my brain was not involved. In any way, really.

I woke up extremely late on Saturday morning, with not enough time for me to get all systems fully operational. I had only an hour to get to Palm Sunday rehearsal, and then my husband and I had volunteered to help at a soup kitchen with our church. (I signed us up before I realized it was No Kings, and we both were remorseful.) We had to take separate cars because of the rehearsal, and I got caught up in a conversation afterward, having left my phone in the car and not wearing a watch I lost track of time—one of my deep personal failings—and came out half an hour late to find my extremely punctual spent-thirty-years-running-his-schedule-to-the-minute-on-the radio husband politely on edge. And I do mean politely.

As we were pulling out of the church parking lot, I suddenly realized my phone with the address on it was in my car. Charlie stopped and I ran half-way across the grass to the parking lot before realizing I needed my key fob which was in my purse. I ran back to his car, got my purse, ran to my car, got the phone, and ran back.

We got to the church where we were volunteering only a minute late. I tried the first set of doors that were locked. There were three sets of doors, and my instructions said to use the doors at the far end of the gym. A guy was standing by the middle doors, and I thought maybe he was one of the clients waiting for lunch.

“I’m not sure what door we’re supposed to go in,” I said to Charlie.

He said to me, “Right there. Right in front of you.”

And the guy at the door said, “I’m Edward, I can let you in here.”

Charlie said to me afterward: “Are you okay? You’re running around looking for a door, and there’s a guy with keys in his hand standing right there.”

My husband has situational awareness. I have pressure-related blindness.

We got inside the big cafeteria where the other volunteers were already assembling the bag lunches that guests can take along with their hot meals. As I hung up my jacket I began fumbling through my purse and pockets for my glasses. I looked everywhere, and couldn’t find them, and had to resign myself to spending the next three hours without them. Fortunately, scooping rice and green beans on a tray and counting cookies, napkins, and forks into bags does not require a close focus. We were handed our plastic aprons and hairnets (no, there are no photos, dammit) and got to work.

I stopped on my way home to get my car, and checked to see if the church were open, where undoubtedly I had left my glasses on the music stand. But it was locked.

When we got home I was tired and still a bit befuddled. I gathered up my rehearsal script, my purse, my coffee cup, and other detritus from Charlie’s car, and then went indoors to begin my search for my spare glasses. Meanwhile, Charlie was outside with very enthusiastic dogs.

We met in the kitchen. “Looking for these?” Charlie asked, handing me my glasses.
”They were under the car seat.”

On these kinds of occasions he will frequently ask me: “How do you get through the day?”

He was kind enough not to say it this time.

Happy Monday.

*******

“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.” ~Julian of Norwich

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