Wouldn’t it be lovely to have power over our forgettery? I’d choose to forget the feeling of Pal’s poop hitting my foot this morning because of a faulty bag. I’d like to forget the demeaning tone that some people use to speak to those in the service industry. I’d choose to not think about when I fell between two tables in my tiny cowgirl skirt when I tried to pick up a lady’s napkin. Actually, that turned out to be a good story so I’d keep that one.
But we don’t have his forgettery power. Instead, negative and frustrating things stick with us much like the scent of dog shit on a leather sandal.