When my son was young, probably 8 or 9 years old, he was waiting patiently (lol) outside the bathroom door for me to get ready so that I could drive him somewhere. I said, "it took me 20 minutes to get this beautiful." He said, "you better go back for another 20 Mom."
When I looked for a recipe a few weeks ago, I know I put it in my recipe box. Or maybe, I just stuck it in my big cookbook. When I finally found it, I couldn't find my glasses. I started looking for the ingredients to get started, and realized the reason I stuck the recipe on the top of the microwave was to remind me to buy one of the ingredients. When I looked in the refrigerator for the cream cheese, I remembered using it for another recipe.
I wanted to add cream cheese to my grocery list, but I couldn't find the one I started two days ago. Before I started the laundry, I thought I would sit for a minute. I snuggled back in my recliner, and "rested" for about 60 minutes.
I looked for my shoes to go check the mail, and realized I forgot to switch the laundry from the washer to the dryer.
When I finally sat in my chair again, four or five hours later I realized I didn't make the recipe that I planned to take tomorrow.
I'm not sure why, but everything just seems to take me longer these days.