This afternoon I was perfectly and completely content. I was driving back home in my comfortable truck - both windows down - listening to a new play list on my daughter's retired iPod - eating oriental chicken wraps from Applebees. Sounds almost like a beer commerical, doesn't it?

The greatest thing about partial memory loss is you can't remember what you should be worried about. It's a wonderful freedom. I really don't know if it's memory loss, or if I have finally reached the point where I just honest and truly don't care - but it's good. I don't have concerns about a job (although it has been an extremely long hiatus of piano tuning for me) or any nagging guilt about the house (besides one spare bedroom piled to the eaves with a whole lot of 'yes-this-is-worth-keeping-I-just-have-no-room-right-now'). It doesn't matter to me that I have a soon-to-be six-year old completely unbroken gelding - the unfinished shed is half-painted and has only part of a roof leaning atop of a hay-bale. Who cares?

But I'm nibbling away all day at labeling photographs - I've spent quality time with my one child within visiting distance - I've walked the dogs AND my horse twice today. My only duty left tonight before bed is to locate what is left of the field mouse my cat was proudly carrying, very much alive, around as a trophy this evening. I don't think the mouse was ever released, and I can't imagine my cat actually eating very much of him (sort of a Meow-Mix-kibble-eater - sort of a vegetarian feline, in fact). Does anyone know of a forensic rodent expect I could call on?