It’s winter here, albeit a mercifully mild winter so far. I put on a jacket yesterday, then walked out of the house—right out the front door—without realizing that I’d left a pot of soup simmering on the stove. My girlfriend noticed the simmering soup. She shut it off and told me about it when I returned. My response was this: “Really? I did that?” I was surprised, of course, and embarrassed. And I was stubbornly skeptical, too. Even though I knew she was telling me the truth. My brain is soft and cloudy now. What parts were damaged, and what parts still work, is ambiguous—and will…