You know you’ve lost the plot when …

I accidentally wore my jeans back to front for most of yesterday.

I went to Coles and everything.

At one obvious point, I tried to put my wallet in my back pocket and there wasn’t one. I thought it was a bit odd, as I was sure there were back pockets previously.

I eventually realised that my pockets were at the front of my pants at around 3pm.

And let’s not talk about how I accidentally took out a mortgage on my apartment last week, instead of the eldest’s new studio.

My eyes widened when the meaning of the word “unencumbered” finally sank in while re-reading an email from the mortgage broker.

The eldest is about to own his first place outright at aged 22 … while I own the debt outright.

I am blaming the oversight on how exhausted and stressed I’ve been by work and insomnia. And some squeaky wheeling from my ex. And the emotional rollercoaster you ride when a parent is approaching end of life. My mum and sister are doing the hard lifting as they are close by, but it still takes its toll.

That’s no excuse for cluelessly mortgaging your apartment. I felt like such a dunce when I realised that I hadn’t realised.

Please let it be stressed-related and not age-related.

I’ve decided that you know you’re getting old when people ask you for directions. I’m the nice older lady who looks like she might be able to help.

I’ve been asked so many questions by strangers in the city lately, from how to find Sydney Opera House to where the nearest coffee might be.

It makes a change from people giving me their seats on buses … although that continues to happen a lot too.

Now it’s Monday, again, far too soon. I can’t go to the office today because I’m the secretary of the body corporate and need to attend a fire inspection of the building.

Hurrah.