Senile

I fake numbered the guy at the tire store.
Yep.
Gave him a fake zip code.
He was inputting my information into his little computer and all was going along smoothly until he asked for my zip code. Then I just...froze. 857...37? I said. In my mind I was going back and forth. Is it 37, or 47? 37. 47? I think it's 37.
Wrong.
It's 45. 85745.
I didn't realize it until I was driving home. I double-checked the printout he'd given me, just to be sure, and there it was. My address, wrong zip code. Brilliant.
I can remember my phone number from when I was in kindergarten. My high school band locker combination. The birth date of every guy I've ever dated. But I can't remember the zip code for the house I've lived in for the past 8 years.
Now if my tires are recalled, they probably won't be able to track me down. I won't get the memo. Maybe my tires will fly off when I'm doing 84 on the freeway.
I better download some kind of mind-training app before it's too late.
Getting old is ridiculous.

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