Brain Fog

When I had a toddler and a newborn, an acquaintance stopped by my house and laughed that I had this sticky note on the fridge:
Shower
Get dressed
Eat breakfast
"You have to remind yourself to do that?"  Yeah, actually, I did.
I used to joke that if anything I have to do is not written down it won't happen.  It wasn't really that funny because it was that true.
Brain fog is the worst.  I can't count the things I've royally screwed up because I just couldn't think.  We drove two hundred miles to a theme park to find out I'd left our tickets at home.  I showed up at a church function without the door prized I was signed up to bring, not just because I'd forgotten to take them, but I'd forgotten to put them together in the first place.  (I even had that one written down.)
I'm not forgetful or irresponsible or careless, so when things like that happen it's a shock to me as well as people who know me.  I've always been the dependable one; I keep my eye on the ball and I catch it when anyone drops it.  Unfortunately when I'm the one who drops the ball, the people who were depending on me just get irritated that I messed up.  It doesn't seem like anybody thinks, "Wow, that's not like her.  She must be having a seriously hard time.  I wonder how I can help."
Social situations are impossible in a brain fog, especially with any accompanying cold, sinus infection, migraine, cramps, fatigue, heart palpitations, breathing difficulty, or combination of those.  The best I can manage is to plaster a smile on my face, try not to slouch, and strain to hear whether anyone is talking directly to me so I can form and execute an appropriate response if necessary.
When my mind is clear, I can actually be witty and entertaining.  My friends have told me for years, "You should write a book!"  Maybe someday.  Right now I'll see if I can pull off a blog.