Male disease

The Christmas season reminds me of a lot of things. One is my acute medical condition. I've got Male Disease (MaD) big time. There is no cure.

It manifests itself differently from man to man. For me, the most observable presentation is that I can't find things. Spatial issues are irrelevant: something can be in the corner of the basement or directly in front of me - my inability to find it is equal in both instances.

Temporal issues are likewise secondary. I have remembered the precise location of a screw I dropped months ago, yet need to ponder deeply what I ate when a burp presents.

Importance of the item doesn't matter. My glasses go MIA as often as a drink coaster.

I've tried to convince myself that the problem is merely psychological. Perhaps I am getting older and more forgetful. Perhaps I can use mental tricks to overcome the deficiency. The frustration experienced in my self-designed rehab problem are too torturous to share.

The problem is not age. It is maleness. I can't find things because I am a guy. They say that recognition is the first step to recovery.

Hi, my name is Clyde. I can't find things.