Usually, I'm quite studious, but I'm also the type who falls walking up stairs.

I confidently strolled into the kitchen and displayed my newly purchased light bulbs.

"And they were on sale," I said to my wife with the grin of a winner.

"Wow, you probably got a really good deal with that coupon," she replied.

I cringed and acknowledged I was an idiot. Then I pulled the unused $5-off anything coupon and put it on the counter. I forgot to use it.

Don't you just hate it when your mind slips?

I'm especially bad with coupons. Every year or so, I have to throw away the coupons that have long expired in my wallet.

I wrestle with whether my brain melts are part of aging or if it is just part of my unique character.

Usually, I'm quite studious, but I'm also the type who falls walking up stairs.

So, when I enter a room and forget why I'm there, my daughters don't bat an eye.

"Can we help you?" My 6-year-old asked one night while they were drawing.

"Why did I come into this room?" I replied, confused. I was there for a purpose; I knew that much. But the details were lost on me.

"Maybe you came in here because you wanted to draw?" she replied. I looked around for a clue, but in the end, just sat down and colored a cat purple.

The other day, I went downstairs to get a screwdriver and ended up putting the laundry in the dryer and forgetting the screwdriver.

Certainly as you age, your memories get fuzzier. There are just so many of them. Or, at least, that's my theory.

My daughter can remember exact details from experiences I barely remember. When she boasts she has a better memory than I do, I scoff and remind her that she has only had to remember things for six years.

"Just wait until you have to start remembering passwords," I said.

The cats have terrible memories. Even if they have just eaten, if my wife walks into the kitchen, they meow at her like they are starving. Of course, maybe they remember full well that they just ate and are just being cats about the situation.

I recall a time when like half of my mental storage capacity was taken up with baseball statistics and codes for video games. Those were the good old days, when there was room to spread out in my brain. Now, I assume, it looks like the "before" picture from "Hoarders."

So, I take a lot of photos and videos. And I jot down a lot of notes. And I set an alarm on my phone for everything.

There's just so much good stuff to remember.

"I got it!" I yelled to an empty room two hours later when my phone died. I ran into my daughter's room. She was in bed but not yet asleep.

"Psst, it was my phone charger," I whispered in between the door crack.

"What was what?" she replied.

"My phone charger," I replied happily. "That's what I forgot when I came into the living room."

"I'm so happy for you," she said as she rolled over.

Reach Dave at 330-580-8490 or david.manley@cantonrep.com

On Twitter: @DaveManley