I thought the lady on the news a while ago who called 911 to complain about her egg roll take out order was an idiot, but my sister just had a nice conversation with our town emergency operator while attempting to call a Chinese restaurant. It seems there is something called a trunk line, and she was mistakenly connected to it. I say mistakenly because I guess I gave her the wrong number. My mind isn't what it used to be. She was thoughtful enough to ask the police department if they would like an order of egg rolls for their trouble.

Not long ago, I was driving to work on an unusually warm and sunny winter day. I thought it would be nice to get some fresh air, and hit the sunroof button, forgetting about the six inches of snow that we had been blessed with the night before. As I leaned slightly to my right to adjust the radio, a ten pound chunk of snow landed on my head, knocking off my sunglasses, ramming my nose into the dashboard, and scaring the bejesus out of me. Isn't it strange when committing a particularly embarrassing act, the first reaction is to scan the area to see if any one was watching? Well, I did and there was.

We all do dumb things from time to time, but I'm not talking about stupidity, although I have my share of that. In the mind department, I am beginning to think I'm leaving the pack far behind. My sister made a comment about a shadow that appears on the door of my niece's apartment upstairs, caused by the night light in the hall and the banister. I made a point of looking for it and sure enough, while leaving the bathroom I saw a menacing shadow of a hooded figure. I must have filed that bit of information in the black hole of my mind, however, because a few nights later, I opened the bathroom door, saw the shadow and in a knee jerk reaction, attacked it with my hair dryer. Alerting the household of the intruder did nothing to support my recent denials of dementia, and when my niece opened her door to see what the ruckus was about, she thought I was trying to kill her.

In my plan for my inevitable deterioration of body and mind, I intend to make full use of my selective hearing talent to cover up for losing my mind. Just the other day, I tried it out on my nephew. He needed a haircut and we decided to do it on Sunday. I forgot all about it and when I got called on the carpet, I told him I thought he said someday. He snapped out of his attack mode and when I faked a contrite expression, he bought it. People feel sorry for you if you're hard of hearing, but if you forget things, they just think you're stupid.

The problem with my plan is, I think my hearing is also accompanying my mind down the long road to oblivion.... for real. I was listening to the scanner the other day when I distinctly heard that there was a bad crash and a raid somewhere in town. I called my friend, Mrs. Kravitz, and she decoded it. It was a request to send the town crew to collect trash from the parade. I think they should stick to the codes, because, well....10-1.

I have a T-shirt that says "People Who Smile A Lot Don't Know What's Really Going On". I was a little insulted when I received it, but upon further consideration, I believe that shirt will become an integral part of my wardrobe. These days I'm smiling like a Cheshire cat.