Some of the names have been changed to protect the doofuses.

Some are anonymous.

Some of the names are real. All of the perpetrators are.


John, 70, is a nut about timing stuff right. Hungrily preparing breakfast, he gently slid two eggs into a sauce pan of heavily salted (so they won’t crack) boiling water, timed them 7 minutes (for perfectly soft-boiled) and kept an eye on the stove timer so he could microwave his leftover slice of corned beef for exactly one minute, to go with the eggs, getting both delicacies ready at the same time. Meanwhile, with three minutes to go he toasted two slices of whole wheat bread — good for the digestion.

He softened the hard butter by putting the dish in the nuker for 16 seconds and then when the egg clock said 1 minute he reset the microwave clock for one minute, to get the corned beef piping hot, and turned it on.

He buttered the toast just before scooping the eggs out of the shells, briefly cooled by putting cold water in the pan. That took just under one minute, while the microwave hummed.

Then, salivating on cue, he reached into the microwave for his corned beef and found that he had forgot to put it in. There it coldly sat, on a plate on the drainboard.

It was exactly one minute later before he could sit down to his slightly cooling eggs and toast, and he was not happy.


Q: Why was I having so much trouble buckling the leather strap on my watch?

A: Because I didn’t have my glasses on and I was trying to put it on upside-down.


Mac writes, “I don’t know what to make of this one: Playing tennis with Maurice, a youth of 62, I was getting ready to serve when I heard him yell ‘Wait!’

“He seemed to be pointing down toward my feet. I looked down at the line and saw that I was bouncing the ball prior to serving FROM THE SERVICE LINE AT MID COURT!

“Should I see the doctor???”


Overcome by the need for a bagel, I drove up to the supermarket this a.m., thinking as I drove about an elderly swimmer who told my wife about absent-mindedly driving past a parked school bus on her way to the pool, incurring a fine of $510 (True!)

I parked, got out of the car and realized I had left my wallet in the other car.

Cursing myself, I went back down the hill to get my money.

The wallet was there because earlier I was driving that car when a safety checkpoint cop told me that he’d “let it go this time” when I was found out — I explained that I didn’t want to take my wallet to the swimming pool for our early morning lap swim and drove without it, wearing only my sweats. No big deal, I thought, and I also used to drive to the tennis courts twice a week without the license. I whined shamelessly about my wonderful driving record and all, and it worked.

Now I have to remember to take my wallet to the pool AND tennis

courts, and remember to take it OUT of the truck when I get home. Meanwhile

remembering to leave my alternate pair of sunglasses in the truck for future use.


To think, I once scoffed at Vermont’s law requiring 80-year-olds to

surrender their licenses. Ten more years of trying to remember all this stuff.

(Editor’s note: John was later advised that he can keep a photocopy of his license in both cars, thus easing the strain.)


Frank, 70:

I’m glad that someone else goes through these “forgetful” moments. I had

a problem of driving to the supermarket without my wallet. I usually leave wallet and keys on my dresser, but sometimes I’ll get the keys only, to move my car out of the garage. My problem was that while driving to the store later, I realized that my wallet was still on the dresser.

Solution: Keys don’t go in my pocket without the wallet.


Mike, 68, is not the only one who’s done this:

“This morning I ground the coffee beans for espresso, placed them in the

strainer, poured the necessary water into the top of the espresso machine and turned it on.

“After my shower, about 10 minutes later, the sink was covered with coffee. I Had forgotten to put the receiving container below the spout. Help! I need assisted living!”


Royce, 75, writes:

Okay, I laughed at you guys until today. This morning Jane (younger than Royce and still working fulltime) baked some banana bread before heading for her teaching job. She asked me to clean up the kitchen because she had to leave. I was so diligent at cleaning up that I put the little timer she had set for baking time in a drawer where, of course, with my bad hearing I didn’t hear it go off. Guess what happened to what was in the oven.

Is there help anywhere in sight?

(Ed. Note: Not much, Royce. Sorry.)