Don is notoriously absent-minded. He's been that way as long as I've known him. Throughout our married life, his most frequent question is "Where's my...?" and on a good day I can supply the answer.
Today he came into the house and started rummaging in a particular basket for some thin drill bits he needed. "I know it's in here," he muttered. "Aha! Success!" He held up a small plastic bag.
He went on to explain, "I can never find this particular-size drill bit when I need it, so a few months ago I bought about a zillion of them and kept them in this bag in this basket. This is one of the few things I know exactly where it is, so DON'T MOVE IT."
"I've also figured out why I'm absent-minded," he added. "It's because I always have 'squirrel' moments."
He's referring to the dog character from the movie "Up" in which the talking dog is distracted by the sight of a squirrel and will interrupt whatever he's saying to focus on the rodent, as in this film clip:
"What I'll do," Don explained, "is go into the shop, find my bag of drill bits, but before I can put one to use, I spot something shiny like a piece of metal and think to myself, 'If I just bend that metal in a certain way, I can make a small nuclear reactor.'"
So, eager to test his theory, he puts the bag of spare drill bits aside on a random spot of shelf and focuses on the shiny piece of metal. Then he gets to work using the drill bit, and the bag of spare bits remains on the random spot of shelf. Two weeks later when he needs the drill bit again, he can't find either the one he used or his bag of spares.
So there you go. It's not "senior moments" since he's done this long before we were married; it's just a "squirrel" moment.
At least, that's his story and he's sticking to it.