Here's a sample of what life is like in the world of confusion and randomness that I call my mind: Yesterday Daughter drove half-way to Nebraska to pick up a friend that is coming to visit for a few days. Before she left, she commented - ever so politely - that I might want to clean the downstairs bathroom before she returned because "It's disgusting!" and she didn't want company to see it. Two important points here: 1.) OUR bathroom is upstairs. The downstairs bathroom is used by two teenagers, one of whom was looking at the counter filled with her toothbrush, toothpaste, facial cleanser, washcloths, lotion, saline solution, contact cases, glasses, etc and complaining because I hadn't cleaned the counter and sink. And 2.) saying she was polite is stretching things. Anyway, after a brief mother/daughter "discussion" on the ages of the bathroom users and their abilities to clean up after themselves, I agreed to clean it for her THIS TIME because she needed to get on the road and she's right, it was disgusting. So Hubby kicked in (he cleaned the top of the shower where I can't reach) and we got everything back into proper shape - or as close as it's gonna get.
Fast forward a few hours to where the confusion and randomness comes in. I was sitting on the couch reading a book (go figure) and said to myself, "Self, your daughter will be home soon with her friend and if she didn't want said friend to see her disgusting bathroom, she would probably prefer that Friend also not see Mother sans make-up and hair un-coiffed." So I started upstairs to our bathroom to remedy the problem. As I passed through the dining room, I noticed three shirts that had been carried in from the clothesline and draped over a chairback awaiting hangers. Yeah, I don't know where the hangers were magically going to come from either, but there they were. So I picked them up to carry upstairs and hang since I was going anyway.
Once the shirts were properly hung and I was exiting the closet, I noticed the overflowing pile of laundry next to the door and realized I had enough time left in the day to get at least one more load run so I sorted the clothes into categories, selected the load I wanted to wash (in other words, MY clothes) and started downstairs. Are you seeing the problem here? Sure enough, as I was leaving the room I went past the bathroom door which reminded me that I had originally come up here to fix my hair and make-up. So, I sat the laundry down and went in to primp. It occurred to me that, being so near to turning 50, I would need to use the facilities before I could stand still long enough to do my makeup without having lipstick where the mascara should be. So I did. Can you guess what happened next? Exactly! I walked out the door, re-gathered the laundry and started down the stairs again.
Three stairs down I had a flash of a vague memory about hair and makeup, so retraced my steps to the bathroom, re-deposited the load of laundry on the floor, fluffed my hair, applied a little foundation and lipstick and called it good. I then re-re-gathered the laundry and started down - for real this time.
Back in the dining room, which I had to pass through to get to the basement laundry room (and you're right, there are WAY too many stairs in this house), I propped myself and my laundry against a chair to laugh with Hubby about my trip to the twilight zone of my brain, then headed on downstairs. Naturally, there was laundry in the washer waiting for the dryer and laundry in the dryer waiting for the sucker who wanted to use it bad enough to fold the previous load. So, being the sucker that I am and also being out of pants to wear to work, I folded clothes, moved the load from the washer to the dryer, started dryer, carried basket of folded clothes up the stairs with me and returned to my book - leaving the load of pants sitting on the floor next to the washer.
This is what it's like living in my head. It's a wonder I find my way to work. It also explains why I have conversations in my head like Tatersmama - If I didn't have a running dialogue with myself to keep me on track, I would just spin in circles. After reading this, it should come as no surprise that if I don't write a book review within a rather short period of time after completion, I can no longer remember what I wanted to say about it. This is what has happened with Mary Higgins Clark's The Shadow of Your Smile. I read it a few weeks ago, then forgot that I hadn't reviewed it. Now I can barely remember the story, much less what I thought of it. And yes, I did write a post about my intention to use the Read, Remember, Recommend journal to keep track of such things - but I forgot.
Honestly, all you need to know is that Mary Higgins Clark hasn't lost her touch. It's another solid story with a little suspense and a little romance. I do recall that I thought some of the family connections were a little hard to follow, but obviously that could just be me. Fans of Ms. Clark's books will certainly want to add this one to their TBR list. I give it 3 1/2 stars - enjoyable read, but nothing that will remain in the somewhat foggy recesses of my brain.