Too Much Sun

A few days ago, the Russian man who was renting the house behind mine, which is owned by Louise and Wayne, came to my door late at night to drop off the key with me, as he was moving out. I was to hold it for Wayne. 

So far so good. 

The following morning, the maid who works at the house behind mine, and whom I have seen many times and occasionally had a chat with, came to my door asking for the key, as she was going to clean up after the Russian had departed. 

Still no problem. 

The problem waited till that night, when the maid showed up once again to return the key. This time, however, I thought she was my maid, Kaka, for some reason. I have been expecting Kaka to come to my house on Friday to do cleaning here, so after taking the key, I mentioned this.

Friday, right, right? I said. 

Friday? 

Yes.

Here?

Yes.

Why?

The poor girl's consternation was clear, but not so clear, in truth, as mine. My mind was working. What's happening here? it asked. What am I missing? Wait, is this in fact Kaka?

Slowly, sludgy gears grinding in my mind, I put it together. This was not Kaka. This was not my maid. She would not be coming here on Friday 🤪

Oh. Sorry, I said. I'm confused. 

She patted me on the shoulder, smiling sympathetically. 

You got too much sun at the beach today, Bapak.

Here in Indonesia it is called pikun. In English we call it senility.