I am very good at remembering things. I can remember the class seating plan from grade three. I remember exactly where everyone sat. I can also remember the phone number of my best friend from grade four. I remember when this guy Chris puked in front of the piano in kindergarten, and I remember a couple of years later when he spazzed out and drew all over my French worksheet in pen. I remember when my brother put a whole loaf of bread in the microwave, twist tie and all, which started a mini fire, even though no one else does. I remember that there was a loose baseboard in the upstairs hallway in the house I lived in until I was 3, and that I used to pretend there was a small town living in that baseboard. I remember this kid from the lake who used to have a pet rat. I also remember this other kid from the lake that we used to call rat boy, because his face was rat-like. I remember this show where the girl had a human mother and an alien father who lived in this prism thing and when she was upset, she could put her two index fingers together and freeze time.
But, I cannot remember important dates like my good friends’ birthdays, or my three year blog-aversary. Sorry for sucking a little bit.