Proof, once again, that this motherhood thing really is destroying my last few remaining brain cells:

The other day I was making one of Beth's favorite dinners, cheese-and-spinach manicotti. It's really easy. After I stuff a cheese and spinach mixture inside the pasta shells, I just dump canned spaghetti sauce over the top.

On this occasion, I remembered using part of a can of spaghetti sauce a few days earlier, for homemade pizzas. I was sure I still had the sauce in the fridge. I looked on the top shelf. I looked on the bottom shelf. I looked behind the milk. I looked in the door shelves. I could not find it. So I concluded I must have been wrong, opened up a new can of sauce, used half of it, and stuck it in the fridge to save that one for a later use.

A few minutes later, I opened up the door and saw this:




Not only was the half-used can of spaghetti sauce that I had been looking for clearly visible RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, apparently when I put my new can of spaghetti sauce in the fridge, I set it right next to the identical can without even noticing. How is that even possible?

Sometimes I wonder about myself. Is it really safe to leave the children alone with a person as absent-minded as this? Maybe I ought to hire a babysitter for myself.