Like Father, Like Daughter

As the latest entry into the NATURE vs. NURTURE debate, I offer this description of a moment in time, Tuesday afternoon, approximately 2:15 PM:

I am finally prepared for the big highlight of my day - a trip to the Post Office. I head out with packages and envelopes piled precariously in my left hand, along with my purse, my Ipod and my keys. In my right hand I carry my freshly-made coffee in my favorite travel cup, my cell phone, and a bag of clothes to donate to the thrift shop. Actually, to be honest, the bag of clothes was headed for the trunk, where it will sit for a really long time until I can't fit something else in there, and THEN it will go to the thrift store.

Anyway, I carefully put all the above mentioned items into my car, turn on the ignition, put on my seatbelt, place my car into reverse, and...

promptly drive out of the driveway with my travel mug on the roof of my car.

You're now either A) laughing at me; B) sympathizing with me; or C) wondering what on earth that has to do with the Nature vs. Nurture debate.

For those in category C, I will explain that, like me, my dad had the same cranial defect that caused him to set things down on his car trunk or roof and then forget all about them. When I was a kid, I stood on the porch of our house and frantically waved, or ran after him down the driveway, shouting STOP! WAIT! DAD! more times than I could name. Once I saw him set his suitcase down behind the car and then back over it. If there are cars in heaven, I bet he's still doing it.

If I had a dime for every Dunkin Donuts coffee I've ever left on my roof, well, I could buy a lot more coffee. I've also lost quite a few mugs, tall glasses, a couple of stuffed animals and some Tupperware. I've also learned a lot about velocity and wind speed related to the various weights of a large, full cup of coffee versus crackers in a small plastic bowl. Also, like my dad, I don't get excited about it. I just try to pick it up carefully, so nobody gets broken glass in their feet or tires, and I move on.

Dad always claimed that he had so many important things on his mind that he would sometimes forget 'the little things.' My mother didn't think it was so little the time he ran over the suitcase (I can still hear her saying, "NOT ONE OF THE MATCHING ONES!").

So, that'll be my story too. I'm always thinking about important things. Just like my dad.