Several years ago, when my aunt first started her decline into the haze of Alzheimer's, we found that things used to disappear. She would move things and of course, being unable to remember that she had moved stuff, great searches would ensue. Keys, glasses, mail, anything that wasn't nailed down was a target. It seems mother is getting to or at that point.
A couple of weeks ago, my sister served my niece popcorn in a cute little popcorn cup. The cup is a mini version of what you'd get at the movies. Mummy may also have been served some popcorn in a similar way. As I recall it, the popcorn was consumed and the containers washed and left next to the sink to dry. Consider my surprise then when I go to Mummy's room several days later and find the popcorn cup there. I scrunched my brow, said, "Huh?" and removed it. A few days later though, there it was again. "Huh?" But this time, I figured it was one of those 'picked it up without knowing I picked it up' things. Rather than get upset or invest any energy in it, I just moved it again and this time, put the two cups away so that they couldn't drift up the stairs again. Matter fixed.
Well that matter might be fixed but the issue remains. For the last two or three weeks, I haven't been able to find one of my bras. I couldn't for the life of me figure out where it might have gone. It wasn't in the wash, it wasn't in my room, it wasn't anywhere. This morning though, as I was pulling out Mummy's clothes for the day, I found my bra. In Mummy's room? Oh right, in Mummy's room. This isn't the first time this has happened and my guess is, it won't be the last. One more fascinating aspect of the journey into the night.