Well, I fucked up

See yesterday's late text post for the details.

My brain, as the Thomas Dolby song says, is like a sieve. I can forget things at an unknown frequency. I've always had memory trouble. From my days at school to the present. I forget things. I only recall when something else reminds me.

I once forgot to get my medication before a string of public holidays and had to go to hospital because nowhere else was open to sell me meds on the day that I both ran out and had a pretty big asthma attack.

So yeah, I literally can't remember stuff that would save my life.

It takes genuine, concentrated effort to learn names. For weeks at a time.

If it wasn't for my mobile phone and the calendar and reminder apps, I would forget my own arse.

And I fucked up by forgetting my own mother's birthday. It completely slipped my mind. I had written it on the calendar, but I wrote it in a pale hue in January and by the time we reached November, it had faded to illegibility.

And I'm so wrapped up with Chaos' Autism Red Tape that the most important thing on my mind is having as much paperwork possible available by the eighth of December.

So my paranoia and my inability to remember simple facts kind'a bit me in the arse.

MeMum is pissed off with me. Seriously. Pissed. Off. And understandably so. I get it. Having your birthday forgotten is a slight which hurts for ages.

I know. It happens every year that my birthday happens in the same week as my Brother-in-Law's. It used to piss me off, but... I'm getting used to it.

If I start every conversation with an apology for that, do you reckon I could be forgiven sooner?