11/08/2026 from Daily Jokes
#22855
Harold and Martha, a spry couple in their late nineties who had been married for seventy wonderful years, were sitting in their doctor’s office for their annual checkup. They were both perfectly healthy, but they shared one common complaint: their memories weren’t quite what they used to be. Keys disappeared, names vanished, and sometimes they forgot why they walked into a room.
The doctor smiled kindly and said, “You’re both in excellent physical shape. But to help with the memory lapses, I strongly suggest you start writing things down. It’s a simple trick, but it works wonders.”
Later that night, Harold and Martha were settled comfortably in their living room, watching their favorite game show. Harold stretched, his joints popping slightly, and stood up. “I’m going to the kitchen for a glass of water,” he said. “Want anything while I’m in there?”
Martha thought for a moment. “Well, since you’re going… could you get me a bowl of ice cream?”
“Sure thing,” Harold said, turning toward the hallway.
Martha paused, remembering the doctor’s advice. “Don’t you think you should write it down so you can remember it?” she asked gently.
Harold waved her off dismissively. “No need, my dear. I can remember it. Ice cream. Got it.”
“Well,” Martha continued, “I’d like some strawberries on top, too. Maybe you should write it down, so as not to forget the details?”
Harold sighed, patting his pocket. “I can remember that, Martha. You want a bowl of ice cream with strawberries. It’s locked in here.” He tapped his temple confidently.
“I’d also like whipped cream,” Martha added. “I’m certain you’ll forget that part—please write it down?”
Now slightly irritated, Harold huffed. “I don’t need to write it down! I have a mind like a steel trap! Ice cream, strawberries, and whipped cream. I got it, for goodness sake!”
He toddled off into the kitchen, muttering the order to himself to keep it fresh. Martha went back to watching TV, feeling confident that her treat was on its way.
About twenty minutes later, Harold returned. He wasn’t carrying a bowl. Instead, he placed a steaming plate of bacon and eggs on the coffee table in front of her.
Martha stared at the plate. She looked at the crispy bacon. She looked at the sunny-side-up eggs. She looked up at Harold, who was smiling proudly, expecting praise for his culinary skills.
She picked up her fork, took a bite of egg, and then looked him dead in the eye and asked:
“Where’s my toast?”
