Fascinating

This is to be quite a busy weekend. I'm teaching a class today and taking one on Sunday. Both require planning for supply needs and packing a large amount of my fiber stash and equipment. Our house has multi-levels and when I'm bouncing all around (jubilantly) organizing for these activities I find myself,  repeatedly either at the top of a staircase or the bottom of one proclaiming, "Wait a minute. What did I come up (down) here for?"

Everybody my age says they do this. It happens more frequently about the same time that one enjoys walking staircases less. So, I was chalking it up to getting older until...

I found myself just sitting at the top of a staircase holding a cocoon that had new life bursting forth. Now, I did not come up here to do this. I'd come up the stairs and into the "silkworm experimentation lab" (extra room), several minutes ago, with a specific purpose: to obtain some notes kept on a bookshelf. But, here I was just sitting on this busy morning, holding a cocoon, and feeling fascinated.

Apparently I've had yet another digression from the tasks at hand. But, this time it's not so much a sign of aging as it is evidence that a childlike nature continues to thrive somewhere inside this middle-aged moth lady who can't remember why she came up the stairs.

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