God knows I have enough on my mind. Most of us do. And how do we spend our days? Checking off tasks on a thought list. Get the kids to school. Go to work. Get the kids to band practice. Go back to work. Pick up food. Pick up kids from band practice. Go home. Mentally practice being calm for the wife and kids. Return phone calls and emails. Tell the wife she is appreciated. Tell the kids they are not. It takes a pretty awesome thought process to keep all that straight.

The stuff that rambles around in a normal human's brain each and every moment of each and every day is enough to confuse a stone. Hell, I spend most of my daily thought reciting over and over again all of my account screen names and passwords. One day, I will have them all memorized. That will surely happen the day before someone hacks into half of those accounts.

But thought lists certainly are not limited to the nuts and bolts of everyday life. Those necessary thoughts bouncing around in the brain like neutrons are nothing compared to other things like depression, love, life cycles, jealousy, self-worth, and all the stuff that really drives us crazy.  Eventually, in any given day, our brain runs out of space for further thought.

We are saturated. Beyond saturated, really. There is just no room for anything more in our brains. At those times, all we should be required to do is to find a warm and comfortable setting on a sofa somewhere and watch a re-run of a 1970's Suzanne Somers' made-for-TV movie.

The other day I was at a local grocery store. I noticed an older couple pushing their cart full of groceries to their car. There was no conversation. Just two old grocery shoppers alone with thought lists of their own. Then I heard the woman say to the man the words my brain and I just cannot handle. Judging by the man's reaction, he was mentally reciting account names and passwords, too. He had no response at all. After hearing the woman's word's, I did focus on the man's jaw. Yeh. He said nothing audible. But his jaw was as clinched as a hungry gator's on a side of beef. And he was grinding those molars, too. He knows what I am talking about.

At the very moment one's thought list has reached capacity, a spouse or someone will invariably say what the old woman said to her husband that day: “Remind me to call Barbara. I need to get her squash recipe.”

So what was she actually saying?

“My own thought list has reached capacity, and surely YOU have nothing going on in there, so think for me, okay Sweetie?!”

The nerve of the old woman! She has reached thought capacity, so, instead of, oh I don't know, maybe WRITING THE REMINDER DOWN, she chooses to load up on the husband's brain. Why is her spare brain space more valuable than his? Is she not at all aware that the old man has account numbers and passwords and such to memorize and process? How dare she dump one more thing – HER thing - on the already over saturated brain of someone else?

Thought invasion should be criminalized. Hell, I would even vote for Ron Paul if he would promise to issue an Executive Order criminalizing “remind me's.” But until such time as a government leader can do such a thing, may I suggest that you do what I do when confronted with these inconsiderate impositions. Begin the reminding process no more than five seconds after the request, and repeat the reminder every ten seconds until the spouse or whoever does what you were asked to remind them to do.

Or until the spouse tells you to go to hell.

Whichever comes first.

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