nouvelles de notre association - aafi-afics - UNOG

floor; it will land on its edge, it will roll merrily away, and it will be discovered only when you crush it
underfoot.
I cannot read the numbers on mobile phones and remote controls, and when I do, my fingers press
the wrong one or press two together.
I refrain from buying a book that I long to read because the print is too small; I choose a less coveted
book which uses larger type. Or I eagerly buy a book and discover that I already have a copy and have read
it.
When I pour wine, some of it misses the glass and adorns the freshly laundered tablecloth.
I cannot remember the day of the week and wish people a good weekend on a Monday.
Unable to reach the top shelf, I climb on a chair and find this is like climbing a shaky serac on the
Mer de Glace without a belay.
Unable to bend down to the lowest shelf, I am forced to kneel and my knees protest against this
indignity for hours afterwards. And anyway, what I wanted wasn’t on that lower shelf after all but at eyeheight.
When my wife can’t take the top off her nail polish bottle, I offer to do it and find I can’t.
I forget on which floor I’ve parked my car in a multi-storied garage. If that’s ever happened to you,
you will know that it isn’t funny.
I go to great trouble to buy theatre tickets in advance and then arrive at the theatre having forgotten
them at home.
I start packing well in ahead of time and find I have to unpack to check what I have packed.
I go out to buy something I need and come back with something that I don’t.
When the lift in the building is busy I wait rather than walk up three flights.
I struggle for long minutes trying to fix my reading light and find I haven’t plugged it in.
I grow angry at a waiter who refuses my credit card; a guest I am trying to impress points out that I
am offering him my bus card instead of my credit card.
I drive into a tunnel and find that car lights dazzle rather than illuminate.
At a cash desk with a queue behind me, I cannot distinguish the coins I have. Not satisfied with
having disguised themselves, they then jump out and roll on the floor. (See the section above on dropping
pills.)
I write a note to remind myself of what I have to do and then cannot find the note.
I do not understand the ads on TV, either what they are or what they are trying to sell.
Every time I see an ad for a new version of a computer, I get shivers up and down my back. ‘Dear
God, don’t let me be forced to install that.’
My sense of balance has become unbalanced. Stumbling over a hole in the pavement is forgivable,
but not being able to put on your trousers without falling over is not.
I cannot open jam jars. Strawberry jam is particularly bad. I now have to eat marmalade.
I reach the bottom of a staircase and put my foot on a stair that isn’t there. (The other day upon the
stair/ I stepped on one that wasn’t there/ It wasn’t there again today/ Oh, how I wish it’d go away.)
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