Last week I mentioned that I made bread which failed to rise. This problem has not repeated itself since even in similar environmental conditions so now I am convinced that I didn’t include the yeast.
Two nights ago I was making steamed rice, and seconds after I removed the lid from the rice container, it went missing. Completely, utterly, disappeared off the face of the earth — it still hasn’t reappeared. Shortly afterwards I put the brown rice in at the exactly the same time as the jasmine rice (we usually have a mix for taste and texture) forgetting for the second time this week something that has never before elluded me in all my 10 years of rice cooking that jasmine rice cooks in twice the time brown does. Mushy rice again.

Last Tuesday night I went out to join some friends for desert and gossip only to completely forget that I had arranged to meet one friend here and take her with us. She arrived a little while later and was quite gracious about being stood up.

On Wednesday I invited one friend along to another’s friend’s place as a kind of grand play-date get together, and then couldn’t for the life of me remember if I had actually cleared this with the host before hand. After a last minute phone call, where I was awkward and the host was gracious, I was assured that yes, we had already had the discussion and it was all ok. I have no recollection of this discussion at all.

Yesterday I turned up to another friend’s place for a prearranged morning cup of tea and a bit of play get-to-gether for our girls only to have the door answered by her husband in his pajamas. He too was most gracious but agreed with me that, indeed, they were not expecting us. Being flexible people they welcomed us any way and I downed my tea as quick as possible and whisked a much complaining Amelia back out the door. When I got home and checked the calendar, which stares at me from the kitchen wall every day, I found that I was out by a week.

As I sit here and write this entry I know that there are other things I have done in a similar vein this last week, and I have been mentally jotting them down, but now I can’t for the bloody (I can use that word, it’s “cheeky, friendly and very Australian”) life of me remember anything more.

I am completely reassured that yes, I do in fact have BLOODY PREGGO BRAIN.