I think it is my German DNA, but I am, above all else, organized. Not obsessively clean — a layer of dust or a stray spider web in the corner don’t bother me much. But I am an obsessive organizer.
Yesterday I realized this extends even to my “senior moments,” which occur most often in terms of names. You’d think that if one can’t remember something that by definition it can’t be organized. My insight to the contrary came as I was trying to remember the name of a plant in our garden given to us by a friend several years ago. I spend five frustrating minutes using the usual trick of describing the object I’m trying to remember, which often leads to success, but still came up with that irritating tip-of-the-tongue blank. Except that I was pretty sure the plant’s name began with an “A.”
So I went to Google, typed in “perennial plants in the UK,” in the search line and went to a gardening site which listed their offerings in alphabetical order.
Sure enough, there it was – Acanthus!