The incident I'm outlining here happened the other night ( and not for the first time ), while I was having my evening bath. First of all, though, I'll provide a bit of background as to my usual routine ... my husband is an avowed shower person, while I enjoy the luxury of long soaks in our wonderful old claw-foot tub. As luck would have it we each have a bathroom, so there's never any issue if I want to hibernate for a couple of hours in the evening with a book. Generally the only interruptions I can count on are the cats perpetually whining to be either let in or out. After I've had my recuperative soak I'll embark upon the actual cleaning phase of my bathtime, and having put aside my book, I find myself settling into a purely automatic sequence of established cleaning rituals that allow my mind to disengage from the matter at hand and wander off on it's own, replaying conversations, weighing the relative merits of this versus that, recapping what I need to accomplish tomorrow, etc., etc., etc.
Nothing terribly unusual I suppose, but I've been brought up short on a couple of occasions by the realization that I'm washing an arm or leg for the second time, or else realizing that I've been so absent that I actually have to feel my shin to know whether or not I've shaved that leg yet.
Scary. Early-onset Alzheimers? Just an isolated mental hiccup? Brain death?
Or perhaps I can safely blame it on the distractions of being constantly interrupted by needy felines ...
yes, I'm going to go with that theory, the other possibilities are too disturbing! ;)