I had it down pat. I figured that the reason we widows/widowers had memory problems was that we simply didn't pay attention to what we're doing. I figured if I really concentrated on all task, then everything will be okay.

I'm proud to say that after two weeks of doing this, I proved my theory. It's concentration, not memory that affects us. I know because I decided to break my diet tonight with a pizza.

So there's just me and a big pizza meant to serve 6. It's midnight. Weight Watchers wouldn't approve. What a wonderful night! I was gonna be bad to the bone and eat every morsel of it. With a smile on my face, I placed the pizza in the oven. My dog salivated as I did this, but I told her it's all mine.

I retired to the bedroom to clean up a bit. I was full of energy just thinking of that pizza out there cooking, cheese bubbling. Emmm, Emmm, what a meal. Imagine my surprise when I went to get my guilty pleasure and found the entire oven smoking like it was on fire. I didn't know what to do. I ran around a bit, panic overtaking me, trying to figure out where the fire extinguisher was. What to do? What to do? What would DH do? I didn't see any fire, just smoke, so I figured he would unplug it. I did that and and opened the oven, closing it quickly when thick smoke poured out. I opened all the windows, turned on the vent in the kitchen, all the while thaking God there was no fire. Finally, the smoke stopped and I stared at the offending oven. What could be wrong with it? I thought, thinking how DH would have probably noticed there was something wrong with the oven before cooking in it. But he's gone and I'm here and I've got to figure it out. So I did.

I put on my Sherlock Holmes hat and opened the darn thing. I didn't have to do too much investigating to figure out the horrible truth: I'd placed the pizza in the oven up-side-down.

What a mess. Goodnight.