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It happened again.

At least, it seems like it.

The other day, we went to the store to buy cornmeal because I wanted to make funchi (the Caribbean version of polenta). I didn’t like the brand they had (store brand, bigger bag than I needed, no ingredient list) and spent some time hunting for alternatives, but without any luck. Finally I gave up and grabbed a bag of the store brand. I put it into our cart with the few other things that we had picked up.

On our way to the cash, PH asked “weren’t you going to grab the cornmeal?”

I gave him a strange look. “I already got it. It’s under the pita bread.”

“Oh, okay, I didn’t see it,” said PH.

Today I went to make the funchi, but I couldn’t find the cornmeal. I didn’t remember unpacking it, now that I thought back, either.

“I can’t remember where I put the cornmeal,” I said to PH.

“Are you sure you got the cornmeal? I never saw it.”

“Of course I did,” I said. “I went to get it right before we headed for the bakery section.”

“I’m just saying, love, that I never saw it in the cart, and I never saw it on the conveyor belt. If you don’t remember putting it away, I think it’s because you didn’t buy it.”

“But I REMEMBER putting it in our cart!”

“Sometimes we think we’ve done things, but we only THINK it.”

“But this isn’t like that,” I said. “That happens to me sometimes, but this isn’t something I THINK I did. It’s something I KNOW I did because I have a very clear memory of it. I remember the weight of the bag, and exactly how it looked sitting in the cart. I remember what part of the bag I grabbed it by. I remember what I did before and after I picked it up.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, love, there’s no cornmeal.”

Am I going crazy?

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