Debbie's coming

Yesterday, you wouldn't have known anything was wrong -- unless this seemed a little odd to you:

She came upstairs to tell me Debbie was coming to see her. I asked her when she was coming, because I'm the one who has to keep track of these things. Here's how it went from there:

I don't know, soon.

Soon like this weekend?

I don't know. I'm sure she probably told me.

Well if it's soon, we need to know the actual day.

She'll call me again and tell me. 

The last time Debbie came, she called while Annie was here. Luckily, Annie answered the phone, got all the details, and passed them on to me. For days before the visit, May would ask, "Now when is Debbie coming?" or even "It seems like someone is coming to see me but I don't know who or when..." And I would be able to tell her. It made her happy each time I did. Debbie arrived on a Saturday and took May on a blow-out shopping trip. When it was over, and Debbie was gone, May said, "That was such a wonderful surprise! The doorbell rang, I went to the door, and there was Debbie! I had no idea she was coming."

Oh wait! There was one more thing. I was flipping through the channels and came across the Pretenders at the Montreux Jazz Festival. We stayed there long enough to see Chrissie Hynde stop her band in the middle of Don't Get Me Wrong and switch to a jazz rendition of that old chestnut. May said, "Didn't we just see that the other day?" Let's see now, Chrissie Hynde doing a jazzy Don't Get Me Wrong at Montreux -- no, I don't think I've ever seen that. 

This "false familiarity" happens a lot. Walk into a restaurant in a town you've never been to before, and she will swear you were just there a few days ago.