Parents are doing well.
I'm doing well.
So I was having a lovely chat with pjthompson the other day, and I tried to explain my aging thought processes to her, so I thought I'd share with the rest of you. You remember that massively vast warehouse at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark? That's how I picture my brain. Everything I've ever learned, every experience I've ever had, is all there somewhere, packed away neatly in a crate.
My particular warehouse is staffed exclusively by little men who all look just like Marty Feldman. Whenever I need to retrieve something from one of the crates, the Feldmans spring into action, racing around until they find what I need. Generally, they're very quick and responsive, but not always. You see, as my brain ages, I just keep adding more crates, but the number of Feldmans remains constant. So it takes them all a little bit longer to get the job done, especially if I need something from a crate that's been packed away for years.
Sometimes I feel sorry for my Feldmans, but I do love the little dudes.
And now for something completely gratuitous: