Kittens in my brain

Heading to a meeting at 1011 NW 34th Street and somehow I find myself looking for 1101 NW 43rd Street.

It is very annoying. I'll be in a group talking about something and someone will correct me, and I'll have to ask, "What did I say?"

Because in my head, I did not say what I said. I said what I meant to say and they heard something different. Except the recording would reveal I said the wrong thing. My brain scrambled the information somehow between the knowing and the saying.

It is like there are tiny, fluffy kittens in my brain, watching pages filled with facts and information come in with casual interest. Then, they start playing with innocent, cute, aggressive enthusiasm. When my brain attempts to retrieve the information, all it sees is mangled paper that has been bit, chewed, licked, and shredded to the point that the text is nothing but an incoherent jumble.

Frantically, my brain scrambles to reunite the pages and recreate the data. Occasionally, the jumbled pieces come together in some form and the information that comes out is just slightly wrong.

Clearly, having fluffy kittens in the brain is not a recognized medical diagnosis. I tried looking it up on WebMD just to double-check.

Of course, with WebMD, all kinds of weird and slightly terrifying answers pop up when you describe symptoms.

Before long, it looks like I could have anything from sleep apnea to silent stroke to an over-abundance of dopamine or some other chemical in my brain causing me to scramble data.

I think I prefer kittens in my brain.